Being the Other Man
by QueenGen
Summary: It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate. HD slash. Veela-Fic kind of? Complete.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** A bit of happiness, sadiness, and suggestivey ness. HD slash. Fattening snacks. Um...and attractive men?

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** I know my last story says that I'm just doing one shots for now...but as my zodiac sign suggests (Sagittarius anyone?), I am a spontanious person. I've been writing this story on and off for a while now and I'm going to see how it works out. This is really a story to see how I fair with writing a more lengthy sort of story. I will also mention that I _Do Not Have a Beta._ Therefore, it may be a little less than par. I'm doing my best to get better, so if you have any constructive criticism please let me know. The prologue is short because it's a prologue. Hopefully the chapters will be longer. With that said...

**Being the Other Man**

Many stories begin with an ambiguous phrase to set the tone. Perhaps one's beginning could be "It was chilly," or "There was a scent in the air". This story needs no ambiguous phrase. The reason being is this; Harry Potter was one happy son-of-a-gun (no artillery products were injured in the making of this character.) He could not be happier if he won a million dollars and had a swimming pool filled with pudding; though, depending on the pudding, that would also be a welcome addition to his happiness.

Voldemort was dead by Harry's wand. The Wizarding World was all coming back into order one step at a time. Tears had been shed, parties had been thrown, and Death Eaters were being rounded up. It was about six months until Harry could finally take a moment to sit in his newly bought and furnished flat and sleep a whole night without being ushered to a new festivity. After those six months, he'd blasted through Auror Training and a few years went by before he found himself even more reason to be happy to be alive. He had fallen in love.

"I swear, if you don't get your arse down here in the next five seconds, Potter, then I'm not going at all!"

Harry rushed down the stairs wearing his best "casually formal" wear: a powder-blue button down shirt, dark-blue jeans with a black, leather belt and his least worn-out trainers. It wasn't his fault that he took a little longer than the other had. He felt his lower half tingle in remembrance of the little tryst that had occurred less than ten minutes ago. When he looked at who was at the bottom of the stairs, he could barely be very irritated for very long. Draco Malfoy, his Auror partner and his lover, stared up at him with a sudden smirk on his lips. The blonde was standing in all of his glory, looking like the Adonis that he always was in his tightly-fitting black pants and shirt. The only color brought to the outfit was the necklace he wore of a small snake with a glimmering emerald as its eye.

"Draco, you promised you'd come anyway," Harry reminded him. "You can't back out of it this time."

"I don't know why you force me to go to these gatherings. The Weasleys dislike my presence just as much as I dislike theirs."

"Not true," Harry said, rolling his eyes. This was their routine conversation for every visit they made to The Burrow. "Come on now, you know you love them as much as they love you."

"Lies," Draco hissed, although he moved towards the Floo without so much as another word. Harry could not resist. "Oi! That is my arse you're grabbing!"

"Mhmmm," Harry agreed with a serene smile on his face as he slowly, gently kneaded the area.

"You get your hands off me right now, you cretin," Draco said, attempting to maneuver his escape from Harry's hands. Instead, the other let go of his bottom only to wrap his arms around his waist and pull him close.

"That wasn't very nice you know," Harry whispered in the other's ear. There was a lapse of silence before the other replied.  
"What?"

"You always tease me, Draco," Harry explained, voice lilted with mischief. "Leaving me upstairs for me to clean up that mess you made." The normally pale cheeks pinked subtly with the knowledge of exactly what mess he'd made. Leaning forward to lick Draco's outer lobe, he smiled and breathed, "You know I'll have to make you pay for that don't you?"

Draco scoffed. "As if you could make me do anything, you dumb Gryffindor." Harry chuckled and wrapped his arms lower on the other's abdomen. He gently stroked the front of the blonde's black pants and if it weren't for the steady stiffening under his fingers, Harry would have thought the hand caused no effect. A gasp suddenly came out of those pale lips when Harry gave a rather determined squeeze, and pulled away with another chuckle.

"But I guess we'll have to wait 'til later for that. See you there, Draco." With a sound of utter indignation, Draco was pushed into the fireplace and the floo powder was thrown with the pronouncement of "The Burrow" from Harry and the other disappeared.

Grinning, Harry followed suit. He really couldn't be happier.

-----

They had broken up over biscuits and hot chocolate.

"What?" Harry asked, his mouth feeling so dry and his tongue so thick that even the simple word seemed difficult to come forth.

"I'm going away," Draco said coolly. His tone was irritating the hell out of Harry, who watched as the blonde simply bit on his second biscuit and chewed it thoughtfully. Harry's mind felt blank and overflowing at the same time, and he was finding it suddenly hard to breathe.

"How long?" Harry asked, with a swimming head and a slowly constricting heart.

Draco looked up at him, cocking his head slightly as he assuaged the other man's reaction.

"Long enough," he said quietly. "Long enough." After taking a sip of his drink he placed it slowly down on the table before bringing his gaze back up to Harry's again.

Harry's tongue felt like it was taking up his entire mouth, but no sips of hot chocolate seemed to help the swelling, nor did it help his muddled mind. It felt achingly slow as he stood and moved towards the cabinet, fetching a glass and filling it up with water. He downed the glass and though his stomach felt like lead, his mouth still seemed restricted.

"Long enough for what?" he asked finally, unable to smoothen his rough voice or lessen the grip of his jaw. Draco didn't reply, and Harry repeated his question. "Long enough for what, Draco?"

Draco stood, not even looking at Harry anymore, choosing instead to direct his eyes out the window that was letting in the deceiving sunshine. Harry had thought that the sunlight meant only good things happening today. Oh fate, how you wound with thy cruel sting. To his continuing dismay, Draco did not seem far too uncomfortable other than the occasional twitch of his left hand. "Isn't there that Oliver fellow that you're around all the time?" Draco asked suddenly. "He's quite a catch isn't he? Bent as a corkscrew, he is. I'm sure he wouldn't mind screwing the Boy Who Lived."

What was sure to be a play on words only wounded Harry further. It was as if Draco was slowly slicing into Harry; small, precise measurements that would eventually lead to his utter ruin. Unsure what to do with his hands or his feet, Harry found himself leaning against the counter along the sink. Crossing his arms, Harry asked the inevitable question with a shaky voice. "Why?"

Draco acted as if he hadn't heard it. "I plan on going all over the world," he said with forced bravado. "Maybe finding Professor Snape and helping him with his search for more potent ingredients for his potions. Then again maybe I'll do something else. I've always wanted to visit the Seven Wonders of the World. The magic surrounding them are supposedly overpowering."

Harry's blank, swimming confusion soon turned into irritation at the avoidance of his question. "Draco?" he asked, hoping to sound stern and forceful when, in all honesty, he probably sounded confused and distressed.

His (ex?) lover was still not giving him his gaze. With a sigh, Draco replied, "It doesn't matter why. The fact that I am leaving," he took a deep breath, that didn't seem to give him any difficulty the emotionless bastard, "and I don't plan on returning."

But it did matter why, Harry thought. No one just up and left for no reason. Whenever people left anything it was for a reason and as Draco's avoidance of the subject and his gaze continued, the reason began to ferment before his eyes. Green eyes narrowed.

"Who is he?" he asked softly. The slightest tremble of the blonde's lip was enough confirmation for him. He repeated his question and Draco began turning towards the door. "You will not leave until you tell me who you're leaving me for!"

"I can't tell you," Draco said through gritted teeth, turning sharply to face Harry again. Not expecting such a reaction, Harry stepped back in surprise. It was silent for a few moments.

"Do you love him?" Harry asked, cursing his voice for cracking. Draco sighed.

"It's complicated."

Harry wanted to scream, kick, punch, anything to alleviate this feeling in his chest. It was a burning, constricting feeling that he never wanted to feel again. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes as he watched his cold, detached lover of the past two years just stand there, without even looking at him. He wanted to grab him, thrash him, kiss him until he saw reason and stayed. Feeling his own hands clenching until the knuckles were white and his breath was rattling his chest, he could do nothing but watch him. "Look at me," he said in a forcefully quiet way. Slowly, Draco did, and Harry could see the emotionless grey pools staring back at him. All the love and attention Harry had poured into that body and soul; all the time and the patience he could provide were exterminated from those eyes that stared at him with calm indifference. Those eyes looking so cruelly composed and apathetically at him wounded him far more than any of Draco's cruel words could. With a slow nod, Harry backed down from that gaze.

"Go."

Harry did not get to see the look of mild surprise at the surrender. "Potter, I-,"

"I said go." Harry whispered, feeling the tears brimming in his eyes. He heard rather than saw the other smoothly move out of the room, leaving him alone with two mugs of cooling hot chocolate and one half eaten biscuit. It was only a few minutes before he heard the crack of Apparation, and but a few seconds after that he could feel the crack of his own breaking heart. He let the tears fall.


	2. Chapter One

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** Cursing, Depressed Bosses, Fruit (both in both senses), completely Inaccurate Auror depictions and other stuff...oh and a little bit o' Veela!

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** Hello beautiful people. This is installment two of Being the Other Man. I do hope you enjoy it. Please let me know if you would like shorter chapters on a nearly bi-daily basis or long chapters (this one is as long as I'll get) on a weekly/bi-weekly basis. This story is unbeta'd and, as usual, Constructive Criticism is always welcomed. Finally, I thank those who have reviewed already and those whose reviews are yet to come! With that said...

**Being the Other Man  
Chapter One**

In Harry's five-room flat, there were many clocks littered about; picked up in various locations or given to him throughout the years. In a perfect world, or even a practical one, each clock would be ticking (or flashing in most cases) to the same time as the others. However, Harry's life was a rather illogical one, and therefore extremely impractical. In each room, there was a different time on each clock. Some only differed by a few minutes, but Harry was not fool enough to think that even a difference of five minutes was a small thing.

For example, when Harry woke up he looked at the clock by his bed. It read that it was 6:15 am. Lying in bed for an extra five minutes, he finally got up and went towards the bathroom. In the bathroom, the time read 6:35 am, so what he had planned to be a twenty minute shower was now condensed to a ten minute one. When he got out of the shower again and went into the kitchen to make breakfast, the clock read that it was 6:40 am, although he'd just taken a ten minute shower. He went back into the bedroom to get changed, and after he came out he decided to go to the living room and watch some news on the telly before work. The clock over the television read that it was 7:10 am, which gave him twenty minutes to get to work. Being a wizard meant that it was enough time to make a pot of coffee and go. When he found a station with the time plastered in the corner, it said that it was 7:25 am. He began to ready himself for work by whipping up a quick batch of coffee, turning off the television and going to the floo. When he clocked in, the time was 7:30 am due to the horrible time difference the Ministry had with everyone else.

There probably wouldn't be a problem if he knew what the actual time was. It wasn't that there were no attempts to fix his clocks; there were multiple tries. However, it seemed like they couldn't bring themselves to work together accordingly. Somehow, he managed to get to work on time almost every morning so it didn't seem to be too much of a problem.

Harry woke up on a rainy morning in much the same way. He got out of the shower and while he was making coffee, the phone rang. Who would be calling him so early? He looked at the nearest clock—which read seven o'clock exactly—and again found his gaze drifting to the phone. After the fourth ring he walked over to it, careful not to drip and slip on the kitchen tile. When he answered the phone, however, there was only a fuzzy sound on the other end. "Hello?" he asked. No one answered. He spoke a second time, "Is anybody there?" Nothing answered. He began to hang up when he heard a very strange sound; a sound like the slurping of ice-cream in an ice-cream cone. It continued for a few seconds until the familiar beep of someone hanging up was heard. Frowning Harry put down the phone and stared at it a moment before going about and getting ready for his day as usual.

"Good Morning, Auror Potter," a voice called as he clocked in. The auror department was in a state of disarray—as usual—and there were self-sufficient paper airplanes flying about to find their designated target. He had to duck as an enthusiastic, lime-green one careened from its course and smashed into the coffee pot. Harry picked it up with deft fingers and helped it get back on course with a little jolt of his hand.

By this time the owner of the voice, Kingsley Shacklebolt, reached him. There was always a rather dismal air about Shacklebolt, as if every morning he woke up and discovered another reason why his life lacked anything to live for. He'd been put on suicide watch once, but after multiple hexes on several of his concerned staff, everyone just accepted the moodiness of their boss and moved on. Shacklebolt eventually admitted that the reason that he looked so murderous all of the time was because he had to deal with idiots like them everyday.

Once, Harry had asked why Shacklebolt was still working with the auror department if he hated it so much. He answered, point blank, "For a moment, imagine what would happen if I wasn't here. There would be pure chaos. Finnegan would be arrested for sexual assault, Brown would scald herself with coffee until a limb came off, and Macmillan would become constipated to the point of explosion if he didn't have someone force some sense into his pea-brained mind." Harry asked him if he enjoyed his job outside of dealing with the people they worked with which made Kingsley stare at him with an awed, mystified look. "What on Earth would make you think that?" That was the end of that.

"Good Morning, sir," Harry answered, amiably enough for a rainy Monday morning.

"Have you finished going over the Kurtz Weebleman file?" Shacklebolt asked.

"Yes," Harry replied, taking a long sip of his coffee before replying, "And there was nothing on him other than a few misdemeanors from when he was at University." Shacklebolt nodded gravely.

"Tell Longbottom to keep it out just in case, I don't want to clear him just yet," the tired man said and chugged down a bit more of his drink. Harry watched as the other man's eyes squeezed shut and he shook his slightly sweating bald head, "I have another job for you, however." Prickling his interest, Harry nodded with his focus becoming stronger as the caffeine began to swirl in his bloodstream. With that, both he and Shacklebolt began their walk to Harry's office. "I know you don't normally do these types of things anymore but I need your help." Harry knew how much of an honor it was for Kingsley Shacklebolt to ask him for help, especially since being in a good light of any sort with the man seemed nothing short of a miracle. "I need you to go on guard duty."

Harry winced. One of the last times he had helped with guarding someone, he'd had a different partner than he had now. A metaphorical lance speared him through the heart as he was revisited with the vision of blonde hair and grey eyes. He did his best to clear his head, with the aid of shaking it slightly. "Will Auror Longbottom be working with me?" he asked quietly. Shacklebolt, unaware of the sudden turmoil his most tolerable team member was going through, he shook his head.

"No, the less people know about this the better. I'm asking you, Harry, because I know that you can handle this on your own. This mission is not allowed to be spoken about beyond you, myself, and the individual you are guarding." Shacklebolt seemed even more tired than usual, a rather amazing feat considering who it was.

They were standing outside of Harry's office when Shacklebolt firmly grabbed Harry's arm and brought their faces as close as possible without contact. Harry could smell the faint scent of cigarettes on the man's breath. "You remember Titus Montague?" he asked with a soft urgency. Harry nodded his head. Titus Montague came about soon after Voldemort had been defeated and everyone had been focusing on the Death Eaters. He was a murderer, and a very crafty one at that. He had a gift that not many murderers could boast; he was part Veela. His victims were often young, skinny men who he would lure in with his captivating looks and proceed to cut open their heads and eat their brains. He had been captured a few years back—a capture which had lost the Auror department a few of their best men. During the trial, his lawyer attempted to convince the court that Veelas weren't violent by nature, and were, in fact, very loving and peaceful creatures. Soon after that statement was made, the Veela in question had managed to woo his lawyer's wife close enough to rip out all of her hair in one fell swoop (And this was why 'Bring your Spouse to Work Day' was abandoned thereafter.) Montague was sentenced to two hundred years in Azkaban, no parole.

The bastard escaped a month later.

"According to our-," Shacklebolt paused in order to find the right word, "…client, Titus seems to be on the prowl again, which is why I have called you here." Again, the Head of the Auror Department let out a sigh that bore the burdens of the world. "He's out for our client's blood, apparently, so they asked for protection. Unfortunately, they are not up to giving us many details on why they are being threatened by Mr. Montague, but we'll find that out in due course. Are you willing to help me?" Shacklebolt stared at him with the same bloodshot, pinpoint brown eyes that made Dawlish shit his pants earlier that week when he took the last of the jelly filled doughnuts (Shacklebolt's personal favorite). Harry merely sighed, knowing he wouldn't get out of it even if he wanted to, and nodded. His boss straightened up and nodded firmly before opening the door to Harry's office to reveal Draco Malfoy sitting in a chair, fondling one of the many stress balls on his desk.

Immediately after their entrance, Malfoy shot out of his seat and both he and Harry stared at each other: one with surprised horror and the other with the same vague look he'd worn when Harry had last seen him about five years ago. It took a few moments for his voice to be found again. "Malfoy," he said, voice a bit deflated as all his breath seemed to leave him.

"Potter," Malfoy said, his expression unmoved.

"Shacklebolt," the oldest of the three said, shutting the door behind him with a solid click. "Now that we've all gotten to know each other, let's sit down shall we?" As if they were still in school, both Harry and Draco sat down in their appropriate seats: Harry behind the desk and Draco in front of it. Kingsley picked up one of the newer stress balls and converted it into a firm, wooden chair before sitting on it. A deathly quiet took over quickly and it seemed like no one wanted to break it. Shacklebolt looked rather amused in his own manically depressed way, and was waiting to see which of the two younger ones would speak first. Harry really hated him sometimes.

As much as he wanted to yell at Malfoy and find out where he'd gone, what he'd been doing, and why the _fuck_ he'd come back after five _fucking_ years, Harry knew that it would only waste time and, if he was going to be guarding the bastard, then he could wait to find out. Draco didn't seem very forthcoming with apologies it wasn't hard to figure out that he wasn't back for Harry's sake. Harry straightened up in his chair, folded his hands on the desk, and looked at Shacklebolt.

That seemed to be the cue the older man needed to proceed. "Mr. Malfoy, please repeat what you had just told me about why you believe Mr. Montague is after you." The indifference quickly turned to irritation towards Shacklebolt as the grey eyes darted in his direction.

"Why didn't you tell him yourself?" he asked, voice not relaying anything other than a momentary distaste. "I didn't tell you for my health. Didn't you record it somewhere?"

"Auror Potter didn't have time to listen to the recording, and it would be a waste of time since you are right here. So may you be so kind as to—,"

"How many more people will I have to tell this to? I thought this was supposed to remain a secret?"

"Auror Potter is the only other one that will know, Mr. Malfoy."

"And why are you calling _him_ 'Auror Potter', while all I get is 'Mr. Malfoy? I was an auror just as much as—,"

"Mr. Malfoy it would be best if you just repeat your story instead of delaying procedures."

With a final glare, Draco began telling the story to the corner of Harry's desk while gently fondling one of the stress balls. "I have been getting phone calls recently from various locations all near my apartment threatening my life. At first I just thought it was some dumb stalker and was willing to face them down if they were stupid enough to threaten a Malfoy." Harry rolled his eyes at that, although Draco was not at benefit to see it with his gaze so firmly latched to the desk corner. "After a little investigating myself, I found out who exactly my stalker was. As soon as I found out, I came here." Something wasn't sitting right with Harry after this story. It wasn't that he was disturbed by Montague's threats, but rather at how disgustedly Malfoy had told the tale. The boy of his childhood, and the man Harry grew to intimately know had been quite a whore for tales of macabre. Things such as murders and torture always fascinated the blonde to a point that Harry sometimes had to hold him back from. Yet now, with a psychotic, blood-lust driven Veela on his tail, he was saying it with such distance and distaste that it made Harry curious as to why this story would be different. Storing that away for later, the auror shifted in his seat.

"Where do we plan on hiding him?" he asked. Avoiding Malfoy would probably be the best for his nerves right now, and if he had a problem with it he could bugger off.

Shacklebolt looked rather put out at having his demented entertainment of watching Harry's discomfort in Malfoy's presence snatched away, but got down to business easily enough.

"I was going to ask you that, Mr. Potter, what with your prior experience at this."

Harry's brows furrowed as he thought hard about this. Once Titus found out that Draco was hiding from him with help from the Ministry, he'd probably look in London and around it first. It was probably best to go somewhere far, far away. It would need to be a busy place, where it would be hard to find anyone.

"What about America?" His gaze wanted to drift to Draco to see whether he approved or not, but he forced his eyes to remain on his boss. "We could find a small place to stay there until this blows over. Is there anyone on the case to find him?" he asked, although he remembered Shacklebolt saying that only the three of them knew of Draco's hiding.

"As many as there were before," Shacklebolt said with a slow shaking of his head. "I'm pushing them harder to find him now, but who knows? I'll most likely station them around whatever location you end up in, as he'll probably end up there eventually." That sounded a bit morbid to Harry, and he knew if someone said that a murdering, lunatic veela was probably going to find him sooner or later, he would probably feel nothing but panic in his gut. Finally his eyes glanced at Draco who was staring intently at him, as if he hadn't heard a word of what Shacklebolt had said. After a moment's silence, Harry thought of another question.

"Do people know that Malfoy is here?" he asked, suddenly realizing how disastrous that could be.

Kingsley looked up at him with a confused glint in his eye when the door opened and in burst a young, recently inducted Auror Gerald Spitz and Harry had to conceal a groan. Harry had taken out his wand in order to disillusion Draco, but was surprised to see that the blonde was already hidden from view. _I guess he hasn't lost his touch,_ Harry thought.

Gerald was harmless to everyone but Harry Potter, who'd stupidly gotten drunk one night at a Ministry function, took Gerald to the nearest hotel and—bluntly—fucked his brains out. Harry feared that the poor lad's brains were still floating about somewhere because ever since, he'd come barging into his office, running up to him in hallways, and even shimmying over to sit with him during lunch hour. Harry thought he'd seen the worst of it until this morning, because now not only he but his _boss_ were looking at a rather small, white male in what looked like a Carmen Miranda getup, although it seemed like there were a few carrots and broccoli along with the many fruits that lined his hat. A few more fruits lined his flamenco dress that glittered with sequins and fluorescent colors. Harry thanked Merlin above that he wasn't naked this time.

"Holy Hat!" Shacklebolt proclaimed, "What the hell are you wearing?" Gerald did not seem affected by his boss's presence.

"Hi, Harry," he said, with the audacity of acting shy while wearing his rather…bold garments. Harry's mouth was moving but he couldn't find the right words to express his thoughts, which only seemed to encourage Gerald further. "I thought that maybe later we could go out and you could really peel a fruit open." It only took a few seconds to understand the disturbing innuendo that came with that statement and Harry's face got so red that he could feel the heat rising into his ears. He thought he heard a noise coming from the direction of where Malfoy was hidden, but he decided it was a figment of his imagination. He was about to get the matter settled when Kingsley took over for him.

"God save us all, Spitz! Do you see what you're wearing? Can you even see past the bright colors that you have all about you, and is _that a dress?_ What do you think I'm running here, a cruise on the Royal Caribbean? What are you going to do next, shit a strawberry? Get the hell out of my sight and if I see any shade of neon or anything of the citrus variety, or even sense any other emotion than melancholy and despair anywhere near this office within the next hour I will see to it that you are made an example of, do you hear me Mr. Spitz?!"

If Gerald didn't hear Shacklebolt, then the rest of the office definitely heard for him as everyone peeked out of their offices or over their cubical to see what was causing all the hubbub. Harry, however, couldn't help but feel that the harsh treatment was a bit too…erm…harsh. He went around his desk and lightly patted the young man on the shoulder, feeling a bit of guilt for causing the man to act so ridiculously. "You best do what the man says, Gerald," he said kindly. He quickly retracted his hand as the other's gaze looked up at him starry eyed. With a ferocious nod at the suggestion, Gerald went out of the office. "I hope he brought other clothes with him," Harry thought out loud. He turned to see Shacklebolt giving him that scary stare again.

"What is it about you, Potter, that makes everyone around here act like they're in a circus?" With that said, he shut the door again and locked it this time, while Harry took off the disillusionment charm on Draco. Harry expected perhaps a bit of annoyance on Draco's face at the interruption of his case. However, when the blonde was revealed again, it was to a white hot fury that made his eyes glint like silver daggers and the very tops of his cheeks were a faint pink. Harry stepped back at the look, wondering why everyone was getting so mad at _him_ today.

"Do you guys even give a fuck about my life?" Malfoy asked them in a tone that could only be considered cold and disgusted.

"Of course we do, that's why we're giving you protection," Shacklebolt said easily, not feeling the affect of the glare like Harry was.

"Well you guys are doing a bloody great job at it already? I'm in here for all of thirty minutes and I'm nearly revealed to the entire auror department by a hyperactive twerp in a clashing, fruity disaster that makes my eyes hurt." Malfoy persisted, the flare of pink to his cheeks getting slightly darker in his irritation. Clearly, Malfoy felt a little vexed and Harry couldn't blame him. Still, Kingsley continued without falter.

"But you weren't revealed, and that is all that matters. If you give me a few minutes, I will secure a place for you two to stay in America. I imagine somewhere along the coast…with the fresh salt air and blue skies. In the evenings, you may walk along the seaside thinking of your dreams and hopes that flutter with you as you stroll. During the day, the scent of funnel cakes and the sound of children's laughter bubble towards you in the brisk wind—," Shacklebolt desisted his whimsical fantasy at the horrified looks on both of the young men's faces, and quickly disapparated out of the room. Harry normally didn't mind his boss's tendency to disapparate instead of just walking out of the door. Due to this tendency however, Shacklebolt had left Harry in a bit of a nasty spot. He was trapped in a room with his infuriated ex-lover and he had absolutely no idea what to say. It didn't seem like Malfoy wanted to talk much anyway, so he walked back around to his desk and began going through his drawers. It was very likely he wouldn't be back in this room for a while, so it'd probably be best to take some extra things as a precaution to anything that might happen. He was about done with the one side of his desk when he realized the strange prickling feeling that was growing on his left shoulder was Draco's furious gaze watching him. Harry's hands halted and he slowly looked up.

The silence that followed that gaze was deafening. They stared at each other silently for a moment longer before Draco finally tore his gaze away and stared firmly at the ground. "Is there something you'd like to say, Malfoy?" Harry asked pointedly. Although the initial need to throttle the other had withered as their meeting had continued, the blonde was still not on Harry's list of people he'd like to be with. In all honesty, he didn't actually have a list, but he was sure if a list such as that existed Malfoy would be on it right after Filch.

"Did you sleep with him?" Malfoy asked as if it had been forced out of him. Harry missed the look of frustration in the other's expression because, unfortunately, he'd been thinking about Filch and whether the Hogwarts caretaker was before or after Slughorn on his hypothetical list and he felt himself go a bit pasty at the thought of being near either of the men he'd just envisioned. Rather than gag because of his own, now contaminated, mind he furrowed his brow and began burrowing through his drawers again.

"Who?" he asked.

"The unbalanced one with the fruit," Draco reminded, looking far less embarrassed now and instead had taken on a look of indifference. Harry vaguely remembered that being one of his pet peeves about Draco. The man would ask him a question and then act like he wasn't even interested in hearing the answer. Those contradictions had the tendency to make Harry's brain wobble.

"Ah, Gerald," he said, now enlightened to what Draco was going on about. He was about to answer it honestly, _Yes, I did. As you can see, it was one of the top mistakes I've ever made in my life, right after giving my heart to you, _but stopped.  
"It's no business of yours either way," he said, taking his own stab at glaring at Draco. The other didn't bat an eyelash. Harry sighed and continued his sorting.

"You did," Draco analyzed quickly. Harry didn't bother to look up. "Interesting, if I had known that you liked them small-," before he could finish Harry slammed a rather large book that he'd taken out on his desk. "No need to get touchy, Harry."

"Then lay off, Malfoy," he hissed. He couldn't believe that Draco could aim so low as to judge _him_ in whatever romantic soiree he might have been in, when Draco had been the one to leave him in the first place. He repeated in with a false calm, "It's none of your business."

It was quiet for a few more minutes and Harry was nearly finished. He just needed to find a bag and cast an Undetectable Extension Charm on it. Harry reminisced of the first time he learned of that spell from Hermione back when they were in Hogwarts. He should have tea with her after this whole Draco-being-chased thing was resolved. They'd both become busy adults and what with Ron and her having three kids keeping them busy, the most usual situation that he saw either of his best friends was when they dropped the kids off for Harry to baby sit while they got a night to themselves. If Harry had one regret about being gay, it was that he couldn't have his own kids. He considered adopting for a little while, but soon the urgent desire faded away and Harry decided that it was really just the loneliness getting to him and he began working more hours in order to avoid the pang.

He finally found a suitable bag and cast the charm on it before he began packing it. He could have cast a spell and his supplies would have gone in easily, but he needed to do something with his hands and stay distracted from Malfoy.

Malfoy seemed to be having none of that.

"It seems like you've been doing well for yourself here," he remarked dryly. Harry pressed his lips together and nodded stiffly. "I'm surprised that they don't have a golden plaque on your door with your name on it, or at least a golden desk plate for your desk." Harry refused to take the bait and kept packing. "Your not even Head Auror yet and you've got such a cushy room for yourself? How lovely. It must be great to be you, Potter." Harry had been foolishly holding a quill which snapped in between his fingers and pierced his palm. At first he didn't feel the sting. His glare finally worked on Malfoy and made him glance down a moment before a smirk plastered on the blonde's face. "Be careful, those things can be sharp," he said in mock concern.

The sheer audacity was making Harry's head burn. "No, I'm not doing this," he finally said, putting the quill down and forgetting about his hand as it bled. His hands were fisted as he went around the desk and forcefully raised Malfoy up with his hand grabbing the man's collar and shoving him fiercely into the wall.

"Let me make this clear to you, Malfoy," he said in a menacing voice. Draco's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm here to help you not get killed by a psychopathic lunatic, and I will be damned if he gets to you before the other aurors get to him." Harry rustled the other man to remind him that he was currently hoisting him against the wall—against his will—and Malfoy winced slightly in obvious discomfort. "But if you think I'm just going to take your shit, then you're more of an idiot than I remember." Indigence glimmered in Malfoy's eyes, but Harry plowed forth. "I don't know what benefit you think you're bringing yourself by insulting me, but whatever you think it is you're wrong. In fact, it would be in your best interest, Malfoy, if you just shut the fuck up until we get to America." With that, Harry let Malfoy fall out of his grip. A moment later his eyes widened in shock at the bright red liquid that lined the neck he'd just grabbed. It took another few seconds for Harry to remember his current bleeding hand dilemma. About to set everything to rights, he was stopped by a few brief movements of Draco's wand and the excess blood was cleared away from Harry's wound before the skin began stitching together. In moments it was void of any abrasion. With that finished, Harry whisked the blood left on the other's neck away with a flick of his wand. Again a silence fell over them.

"Thank you," Harry finally murmured, flexing his renewed hand tenderly. He was answered with a nod.

Malfoy was unusually quiet until Shacklebolt came with a portkey. The Head Auror instructed both men that the portkey would lead to the loo of an airport, of which he could not give the name, where they would proceed to the first flight for Newark Airport. He also gave them an envelope with what turned out to be money, passports and tickets, the address of their location, and a set of guidelines to follow for living in hiding. If he noticed a difference in the tension between Harry and Draco, he didn't remark on it. Instead, he just gave Harry the portkey, to be activated with the codeword 'Wimbledon,' and the envelope. Harry nodded his understanding and watched as the aged man turned to Draco. "If you suddenly become defective and do something to put yourself at risk, it'll be your own damned fault, so don't even think about it." Shacklebolt always had a way with words.

Draco's head bobbed up and down although the awareness of the strange threat was obviously exhibited in his tensed body. Then again, maybe he was shaken up by Harry's assault on him, but one could only hope so much. Roughly, he grabbed Draco's other's hand-which was lithe and warm within his thick, calloused one- and said the codeword. With a pop they were gone.


	3. Chapter Two

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** Nostalgia, bitterness, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, misspellings, and cliff hanger?

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** Hello, beautiful people! Coming at you is installment numero three of Being the Other Man. This is a relatively relaxed chapter with some more Shacklebolt snark. Hopefully in February I'll be able to crank out another chapter after this one, but I've simply been too busy as of late. Review with any constructive critiques! I thank all of those who have reviewed and messaged me already, for it is greatly appreciated! With that said:

**Being the Other Man  
Chapter Two**

The house they had ended up in was alright, and enough for Harry's simple tastes. It was entirely brick with a garage for a car, which would have been lovely if they had one. The inside was nice as well: all wooden interior with new-ish furniture. There was a family room connected to the kitchen if you turned left, or you could go up the stairs and there were three rooms: one bathroom, and two bedrooms. It was small, but it was best if they didn't have a big house anyway.

When he'd been inspecting it for the first time, Draco had gone upstairs to claim a room, he saw that there was a cupboard in almost the exact same spot as the one he'd been housed in when he lived with his relatives in Little Whinging. He stared at it for a long while and slowly bent down to undo the latch that kept the small door shut. Not knowing what he was expecting inside, Harry opened it and all there was were some extra blankets and pillows. It wasn't musty with spiders all over it like his had been. After looking for a few moments longer, he shut the door and put the latch on the door again.

It turned out Draco chose the room with the least amount of windows, which was a smart thing to do, even if there was a charm on the house already. Sometimes, Harry forgot how intelligent Draco was. Of course, he hadn't seen the bastard in five years which could explain the slip of knowledge. In Harry's room, there were two windows, one facing the street and the other with a beautiful view of their neighbor's similar window facing him. The front one had a window seat which pleased Harry. Laying his supplies down on the bed, he went over to the seat and sat down, watching the cars go past. If he squinted, he could see the sea tumbling about in the distance. He allowed himself a moment to get lost in his thoughts.

Who would have thought that within five hours of going into work he would be saddled up with his ex for an unspecified amount of time until he was out of danger? If the circumstances had been different, Harry might have been elated. However, he knew that the only reason Draco was back in his life was because he could be killed without his help. If today's behavior showed any indication, it seemed like Draco was right back to being the git he was before they had dated.

A tenderness he forgot he had began to throb in his chest. Harry was convinced he must be a masochist. There must have been dozens of aurors able to complete this job other than him. Just thinking about the day Draco left made Harry's insides go numb. The worst part had been that Harry hadn't seen it coming at all. They'd been dating for two years by that point and, as far as Harry knew, they were happy together. It was the classic story of yin and yang: Harry's brashness was soothed by Draco's subtlety. Draco's cold fury was alleviated by Harry's tender understanding. Even Ron had admitted that, although Malfoy was a right git, he'd never seen either of them as happy as they were when they were with each other. If Ron's acceptance wasn't enough, than what was? Harry chuckled darkly, _nothing was, I guess._

Draco hadn't even said that they were breaking up. "I'm going away," was all he said. Two years of what Harry thought was bliss and, without anymore explanation than that, Draco was out the door without a second glance back. The next day Harry waited for him to come back, but he didn't. He tried to convince himself that it was just a fight, but even that wasn't true. There wasn't any fighting involved. Draco just left. It wasn't until he was assigned another partner by Shacklebolt, who was looking at him with an unfamiliar sort of sympathy, that he really understood that what they had was over. And the last thing he'd told Draco was to leave. If he'd known that would be the last time, he would have said more. He would have fought more. Struggling, he tried to remind himself that it wasn't the last time, since obviously he was sitting in a house with Draco in the room opposite his. He knew, however, that Draco was going to be gone the instant Titus was captured, which made it all the more painful a burden to bear.

He was brought back into the room by the sound of a throat clearing. Harry quickly turned his head to catch Draco staring back at him, looking a bit uncomfortable._ Good_, Harry thought with a little morbid satisfaction, _what with how he's been acting today he should be a little uncomfortable. _Standing there a bit longer, the blonde sighed and said "I was going to see what food they left us in the fridge and have dinner. I figured you'd want to join…" he lingered at the end of his sentence, watching Harry cautiously, as if he was going to bite in distaste at the mere suggestion.

"I would," he agreed firmly. Standing up, he stretched out his back a little, waiting until he heard a few cracks before he let his arms swing back down. Looking at Draco again, he saw that he had been staring at the spot that his stomach was revealed. Harry, luckily, had kept himself in shape over the past five years that Draco had been gone, so his abs were still as presentable as they had been when they dated. _Look at them and weep, jerk,_ he thought giddily. He walked past the blonde and lead them down the stairs and through to the kitchen area.

The refrigerator was fully stocked as were the cabinets and pantry. Harry made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while Draco went about making soup from a can. With a pang, Harry remembered showing Draco how to do that for the first time, and the disgusted amazement on the blonde's face as the soup poured from the can into a pot. "You can actually eat that?" he'd asked, which only made Harry laugh. Even now, it made Harry smile at the memory.

They went about making their meals quietly and sat across from each other at the table. After a few minutes, the quiet was becoming deafening and Harry put down his sandwich to look up at Draco. It didn't take long before grey eyes met his green ones. "What?" Draco asked.

Harry shrugged and looked back at his sandwich. "Nothing." He took another bite of his sandwich and put it down, delving into his own thoughts. It wasn't until he heard Draco say his name that he looked up.

"You have a little, um," Draco was referencing to his mouth like there were crumbs on it, and Harry quickly got a napkin to wipe it off, albeit a bit embarrassed. Draco laughed, and it was almost a sound of relief. Harry couldn't help but smile. "You always did have trouble keeping food in your mouth," Draco said in what could only be described as a fond, nostalgic way. Harry didn't want to speak and risk ruining this very delicate peace they had between them as they ate. Draco continued courageously after a few more spoonfuls of soup. "How are Granger and Weasley?"

"Married," Harry replied after a few moments, still praying that he wouldn't say something stupid. "They're good I suppose."

"You suppose?" Draco countered.

"Um, yeah. I don't see them much anymore. They have kids and stuff," Harry stuffed his face with sandwich in order to keep himself from talking. The peanut butter prevented any other movement than chewing which was just as well.

"Oh, well good for them." Draco looked back down at his soup and put his spoon down, apparently done with his meal. However, he did not move, and Harry assumed he should try contributing to the conversation as best he could. Slowly, he swallowed his bite down.

"How's Snape?" he asked. At Draco's confused look, Harry proceeded to say "You said you were going to see him? I mean…you know, a while ago." Yeah, that 'don't say something stupid' promise was promptly tossed out the window.

Something flashed briefly in Draco's eyes, but it was gone before Harry could understand what it meant. "He's good," he said quietly. "Living a quiet life in the Amazon, collecting potion ingredients and muttering to himself about the inadequacies of the world."

The rest of the meal had gone on in pretty amiable terms. Even Draco's scathing remarks lacked the venom that Harry was afraid he would have to become accustomed to. If anything, the other man was…congenial throughout the meal, asking various, innocent questions and answering them back in kind. It was with that quiet peace that they bid each other goodnight. When Draco went up to bed, Harry waited by the floo until Shacklebolt's head came up through the fire and reported the progress of the search (of which there was very little) and asking how the move had gone. There hadn't been much to report. "Potter," Shacklebolt said, his tone taking on a new type of seriousness. "We still don't know why Montague is after Mr. Malfoy. If you could find out from him, there's a better chance of catching him."

Harry looked at him dubiously. "Sir, we hardly speak to each other in the first place. How in all hells would I be able to ask him that if he won't tell the authorities?"

Kingsley did not look impressed with Harry's floundering manner. "You will do so by opening your mouth in the appropriate fashion for _words_ to come out of it. Then, you will _listen _with your ears, which are the fleshy things on the sides of your head, and _hear_ what he says. I've heard this often described as having a _conversation."_ Sometimes, Harry felt his boss took too many liberties with his sarcasm. After reigning in his irritation, Kingsley continued. "I don't understand what the problem is, Potter. You were his partner for a year when he was an auror. I'm sure you know how to speak to him far better than anyone else."

Harry felt a flutter of something in his stomach. Secretly, he loved the fact that he was one of the only people Draco confided in during their relationship. The Slytherin graduate had given everyone he met the impression of being standoffish and self-isolated. Harry had worked hard and eased his way into that self-isolation until Draco trusted Harry just as much as Harry trusted him.

Of course, that was until he ran off to the Amazon with Snape. Maybe Draco and he hadn't been as close as he had once thought. Refusing to return to the place of self doubt so late in the evening, he quickly finished up the conversation with Shacklebolt and the connection between them ended. Harry brushed off his knees and walked towards the window. When he reached it, he looked out unto a navy blue world, with amber lights breaking the heavy blanket every few meters. He had begun turning away from the window when something caught his eye. Quickly he returned to his post at the window to see a shadow looming in the darkness across the street before making a quick getaway down a nearby alleyway. The form of the shadow had been slender and tall, and caught from one of the amber lights he saw something that made his stomach begin to unsettle. Under the lights he could see stark blonde hair: the most obvious indication of Veela heritage.

Could that have been Montague? If so, how had he gotten there so quickly. Glancing at the floo, he knew that he should call up Kingsley to let him know about the sudden discovery. Still, something stopped him. It could have simply been someone with blonde hair running about mysteriously; as he was sure some might be wont to do. His instincts told him that such reasoning was absolute crap, and he knew it.

He was prevented from taking immediate action either way at the sound of soft, rapid footfall descending the stairs. "Harry?" he heard the once familiar voice call. Harry swiftly turned around and saw Draco standing in his nightclothes, looking a bit frantic and out of breath. It didn't take far too long for Draco to notice him and hurry to him. Standing so close that Harry could smell the light scent of the blonde's shampoo in his hair, Draco seemed to be inspecting the other with deep concern. Harry happened to notice that his buttons were all done up wrong and his hair still sopping wet, even with a bit soap at the ends of the strands. "Are you okay?" he asked urgently.

Harry's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Of course I am. What's wrong? Is the shower not working?" He would not admit to himself under any form of pressure that he got a small thrill out of those usually impassive eyes looking so concerned.

Draco blinked and stepped back promptly, lifting his head to look out the window. "Um, y-yea," Draco stuttered, sending all sorts of warning signals to Harry's mind. "The water got cold too quickly."  
Harry sighed, remembering how important it had been to Draco to acquire all of the hot water for his showers. Cold showers had been a small price to pay for a steaming hot blonde in his bed every night Harry thought absently. "I'll fix it tomorrow then. How about you finish washing your hair in the sink for now?" Harry watched as Draco's stare went from the window to his own gaze before the wet, blonde head bobbed in agreement, and without another word the other turned around and went upstairs to his bedroom that, Harry could only assume, must have an ensuite bathroom. With one final glance out the window, Harry followed. He did not see the shadow creeping slowly around the corner of a building at the edge of the alleyway it had escaped through, staring directly at their house.


	4. Chapter Three

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** More glitter and ridiculousness, the characters are getting OOC quite quickly. Other than that...um...the horrors of shopping

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** Hello, beautiful people! And now, comin' at 'cha is Being the Other Man installment four! I would like to note that I realize this story is getting very twisty and confusing, but I must remind folks that I am a student of the world and am learning still. I also don't have a beta or any sort of editor other than myself...and I am possibly the worst editor to date. Please enjoy!

**Being the Other Man  
Chapter Three**

Another difference that Harry remembered between Draco and himself was that, while Harry found pleasure in sitting about watching the television or going on a leisurely ride on his broom, Draco was an endorphin-junkie. There had been times that he went away for a few days to a week trying out new things: hang gliding, snowboarding, rock-climbing. His dream had been to climb Mt. Everest without magic. Outwardly, Harry told the man he was barking mad, but inside he felt a deep admiration for such an aspiration.

So, Harry wasn't surprised the next morning when he saw Draco in a pair of light blue running shorts, a white tank-top and a pair of very expensive looking sneakers. It was sunny out, and it looked like Draco had prepared for this if the sunglasses resting atop his head were any indication.

When Draco finally saw Harry, he looked like he didn't know what to say. Harry couldn't blame him, since he was rather unsure of himself with all the varying emotions yesterday. "Good Morning, Malfoy," he said cordially.

"Morning," was the reply. Harry watched as the other bent down and readjusted his socks to be even with each other. "I'm going for a run," he stated while he rose to his full height again. Harry sighed; he really didn't want to say this.

"You can't," he informed the other, and watched the anticipated frustration spike the grey color in his eyes. "You can't leave the house by yourself. You know the rules."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just going around the block, it will take less than an hour if I go around two or three times," Draco replied.

"Sorry, Malfoy," Harry said, leaning against the doorway of the living room which was adjacent to the door Malfoy was standing in front of. "If you're adamant about this, I have to go with you."

"You?" Draco asked, as if the idea were ridiculous. At the no nonsense look on Harry's face, he flung his hands in the air. "Fine, whatever, I'll just go up in my room then." He promptly about faced and went up the stairs with no small amount of irritation. Harry had the kindness to let the other sulk until lunchtime and prepared a meal of beef stew. Draco ate in agitated silence for a long while until he finished, then went up the stairs to continue his vigil of vexation. After his routine inspection of the house, Harry decided to unpack all of his things that were brought in and organize his room to his liking.

He hadn't realized that Draco's lament was going to persist through the rest of the week. Harry tried a few times to make the atmosphere a bit less languished, but Malfoy would have none of it. Maybe he hadn't understood that going into hiding meant…hiding. His moping was not only obligated to his bedroom, but he had distributed it all around the house while looking longingly outside one window or another. He soon discovered the window seat in Harry's bedroom and had taken to staying there throughout the day except for meals.

Harry was making breakfast and enjoying the smell of bacon on the frying pan and listening to it sizzle. He had taken to making their meals, finding it a soothing way to get away from Draco's dreary attitude. Before Harry could call the brooding blonde downstairs, he saw him come into the kitchen. Without making remark, he watched Draco sit down before serving him breakfast.

"You need to call the Ministry," Draco said, looking quite serious. Harry's hands faltered and it was quick thinking that prevented the pan falling to the ground in surprise.

"Why? What happened?" he asked urgently. Grey eyes shot up to look at him with what could only be a look of utter distaste.

"They decided that with an undetermined length stay it would be best to provide a week's worth of clothes," he said through grit teeth as if admitting that he was running low on clothes was a humiliation that someone would definitely be paying for later. Harry did his best to conceal his amusement, which was helped by turning his back to the other and washing his hands.

"I don't understand why I have to call the Ministry about something like that, though," Harry replied. "And you know, you could wash them," then he paused. "Wait a second, didn't you pack your own bag?" he asked. Draco looked away, humiliation apparently escalating with the question.

"That's none of your business," Draco replied snappishly. Harry blinked. "Just firecall them."

"No," Harry replied easily enough. "I can get them for you. I'm sure there's a shop around here that sells clothes." He chewed off a piece of bacon and let the greasy goodness coat his tongue eagerly. It wouldn't be too hard finding something, since he knew Draco's size five years ago and he didn't seem to have grown or shrunk at all since he'd last seen him. Plus, for safety purposes, the fidelius charm on the house should work even if Harry wasn't in it, since he'd been told the address by the secret keeper.

"Why can't you just firecall the Ministry?" the blonde asked, suddenly the seriousness in his tone was less irritated and more cautious.

"I'm not going to waste their time because someone needs more than a week's worth of clothing," Harry replied sharply. Finished with his breakfast, he got up to scrape his plate and proceed to wash it.

"This wouldn't even be a problem in the Ministry actually paid attention to what they were doing," Draco mumbled resentfully. Harry heard a bit of rustling for a minute before he felt the other's arm brush against his in attempts to get to the sink to wash his own plate. The touch sent electricity through Harry's nerve endings all the way to his brain and he flinched with a caught breath in reaction. Draco's hands stilled and he could feel the other glancing at him before the lithe hands continued scrubbing the dish. Harry stepped back, realizing that other than his near chokehold yesterday, that was the first physical contact he'd had with the other in over five years. The brief touch made his head fuzzy and he had to resist the urge to flop like a boneless fish to the floor. He was over this, he told himself, although a traitorous voice in his head told him otherwise. He'd been over Draco Malfoy for the past four—maybe even four and a half!—years and that didn't change just because of a small brush of contact. He vehemently reminded himself that Draco was going to disappear again once Montague was captured. It took a few seconds to realize that Draco was speaking and he asked the blonde to repeat himself. "I said," Draco repeated cool eyes boring into Harry's, "That I'll only let you go if I come with you."

"What? That's stupid," Harry said shaking his head of his previous anxiety. "It will take all of an hour, maybe two, to get you some clothes, what would you need to come with me for? No, I'm not going to risk you getting discovered just because you're a little stir crazy or whatever it is that's wrong with you."

"I'm not a toddler," Draco vehemently replied, not willing to give this up. "I know how to defend myself."

"Then why did you come to the Ministry for help, Malfoy?" Harry asked, getting to the last of his patience. The quiet that followed convinced him that he'd won and began walking towards the door when Draco stopped him with his voice.

"I didn't know you'd become such a stickler for the rules, Potter," the snide voice called, making Harry feel a shiver of memories at all the times he'd heard that voice remarking about his family and his friends during school. In turn, he remembered the soft, easy tone he grew accustomed to while they lived together that would turn playful or serious depending where they were and what shenanigans they were up to.

"A lot can happen in five years," was Harry's simple reply. Draco wasn't about to give up though.

"Please let me come," he said, shocking Harry when the 'p' word came out of the other's lips. "If I stay here one more second, I might kill myself."

Harry turned to look at the other sternly. "Isn't that what we're trying to prevent?" he asked, "-your death, I mean?"

"Exactly," Draco replied, brightening up, "Which is why you best do your job and let me come along then." After much deliberation, Harry slowly nodded. After all, if he was with the blonde then hopefully nothing too bad would befall the other. After determining a disguise and glamouring Malfoy's face to an inconspicuous sort of appearance with dull, brown eyes and a button nose, and his head topped with a rusty kind of blonde hair, Malfoy looked nearly like a Weasley. "Say one word, Potter. One word and you're dead." Harry kept on his best behavior and said nothing about the appearance. As Harry was exiting out the door, he noticed the other's absence. Turning around, he saw the familiar frustration on the obscured face. "What?" Harry asked.

"Aren't you going to wear a glamour as well?" Draco replied. Harry looked down at himself in confusion.  
"I'm not the one in hiding," he reminded the other slowly. Draco scoffed and, before Harry could blink, took his wand out and cast a glamour on Harry as well, making him look rather mundane with graying hair, a rounder face and blue eyes. Deciding it was easier to go along with it, Harry nodded and with nothing else said, the two of them left the house and made a left onto their street.

Even through the physical changes Malfoy was under, Harry would have been able to know it was him right off the bat. Down to the way the man swung his hips was utterly Draco. A startling stroke of fear coursed through his veins; what if someone else would be able to tell it was him, specifically Titus? Two conflicting emotions rankled within Harry at this revelation. There was the obvious fear and heightened sense of caution as he looked around to see if anyone suspicious was ahead, behind, or beside them. When the only other person on the street this early in the morning was an older lady walking her French poodle, Harry did his best to prevent the other feeling within him: that small gnaw of jealousy. No one should know Draco as well as Harry did that traitorous part of him whispered, but he told himself that was obviously ridiculous. He'd only been around him for a week, and before that he hadn't seen him for five years. There could be an endless slew of people who knew what Draco was like better than he did. That only added to the heightened state of awareness he felt as he kept his eyes peeled for suspicious movement.

"Could you please stop twitching like that?" he heard in the corner of his mind, and saw that the Weasley-esque Draco was staring at him. Even without the stark grey quality to them, his eyes were still quite piercing. Harry felt his cheeks begin to flush. The other then turned around and began to mutter. "Honestly, they give us more junk food than we could possibly need, yet next to no briefs or boxers and a half empty tube of toothpaste. It's reassuring to know the Ministry's priorities."

The more Malfoy badmouthed the Ministry, the more uncomfortable Harry felt. He didn't exactly love everything that Ministry did, far from it, but he didn't really deem it proper to badmouth it for the sake of badmouthing it. Government has been and always will be a chaotic mess, which was why people rely on themselves to do everything. If Harry had learned anything from the war, it was that. A little curious why Draco felt such distaste, he asked, "Why do you have such a problem with the Ministry?" He shifted his gaze uncomfortably when the brown stare turned to look at him. "We're the ones you went to for help after all."

"Yes," Draco grumbled, "A fact you continue to point out with each chance you get."

"Only when you feel the need to whine about it," Harry replied, defensively.

Draco stopped in his tracks and his piercing stare went hard. "You always were a suck-up. I remember what it was like working with you, and that's exactly what you were: a suck-up." A snort, "I personally don't understand why you keep defending them when they don't see you at all past your name. You watch, Potter. Eventually someone else will come along and play their mascot, and they'll leave you with yesterday's rubbish. You'll find yourself among the nobodies who worked under you for years, desperate to be seen."

Harry's face had gone pale with fury. How _dare_ Malfoy speak like that to him? "You mean like you did five years ago, Draco?" he asked. He snorted in derision, "Like you have any right to talk. I'll deal with whatever they do with me when that time comes. After all, I've had practice at being meaningless to someone, haven't I?" He didn't even bother to look at whatever face Draco might be making at his reply. Instead he pushed forward past the other to keep walking.

He got about five steps before hearing a very strange noise coming from the alleyway to the right of them. Before he could get into any sort of position to defend Malfoy, he felt himself suddenly being attacked. _I'm slain! I'm slain!_ His mind bemoaned. However, with his eyes shut he couldn't see what had attacked him. He opened his eyes. _Apparently, my death is filled with feathers and glitter._

"Hello, Gerald," he said in a wheeze. The man seemed to have driven the breath out of him.  
"__!" Gerald moaned. "I thought I would never see you again! They said that you had gone on a mission, but there wasn't anyone going with you and I was so scared you were going to _die_!" Harry would have been flattered if he didn't have to fight the sudden urge to cover his eyes at the effect that the glare of the sun was having on Gerald's glittering outfit. Wait…

"Gerald," Harry said, his confusion escalating. "Why are you wearing that? You look like a Vegas Showgirl." Gerald's eyes gleamed.

"Thank you, Harry!" he gushed. "I knew that you'd love it. I mean, of course I didn't know I was going to see you here, but I was thinking that when you got back from your mission we could play 'Innocent, virginal chorus girl with a body begging to be spanked and the Older, Wiser and very kinky leading man.'" Before Harry could flush, gag, or all of the above, the other jumped up and down excitedly. "Oh, silly me I forgot to say why I was here! There's a grand opening a few streets down of a gay bar: The Fierce Kitten. Apparently it's all the rage, which I don't really understand since it is its grand opening and therefore couldn't have had any customers…but I thought I should dress up a bit." Suddenly, the excitement smoldered into seduction. It was a strange sight to behold, Harry thought, and reminded him vaguely of a squirrel trying to lure an acorn into the nest with only its eyes. "Maybe you could come with me, Harry? I admit you're a little underdressed, but we could always fix that!"

Suddenly, Harry realized something. "Gerald, how did you know it was me?" he asked. The glittery male had the audacity to become coy and look up at Harry through sparkling eyelashes.

"Do you think a little glamour could hide our love?" he asked. Harry gulped. After a few moments, Gerald tittered and giggled. "You're so silly, Harry." The auror blinked slowly, still confused but decided that it was probably best he didn't ask.

For the first time since Gerald arrived, Draco spoke up. "Potter, I think it best if we go." Harry looked back at him and saw that his gaze was scanning around them. Following that gaze, he saw many eyes start looking in their direction. Draco was right, they should probably keep moving, specifically away from Gerald. His outfit was grabbing too much unwanted attention.

"Who is this?" Gerald squeaked, ignoring the sudden urgency that befell the other two. He went from seductive to indignant in a matter of seconds. "Harry, who is this?" Harry, unfortunately, did not have time to explain to the sparkly man that, while the man with him was not any sort of threat in that way—_I wish_ that traitorous part of his brain thought again—he wasn't planning to take any forays into the world of the absurdly glittery and fabulous. Therefore, hoping that Draco would just go along with it, Harry took the plunge.

"Gerald, this is my b-boyfriend…John. And we have an important, um…" Harry's mind blanked and he looked desperately towards Draco, who rolled his eyes.

"We're going to go have sex, so if you and your feathers could back off from my _boyfriend_ that would be great." Hearing Draco say that he was his boyfriend—especially with that slightly angry tone that must have been added to make it sound more convincing—sent shivers down his spine, even though he knew he'd berate himself later for such silly behavior. Although it got a little harder when Draco grabbed his arms, sending those silly tingles up his spine again, and kissed Harry-the poor bugger-smack on the gob. If his mind wasn't whirling, Harry would probably be wondering if perhaps the extra mile Draco took was a little unnecessary. When he was able to pull his gaze away from Draco, who was looking at him with a sort of arrogant smirk, and turn to Gerald he saw hurt, confusion, and a strange sort of fury cross his face.

"Oh," he said, his tone clipped, and stepped back accordingly. "Well, I best be off," he said, faking the cheerful tone from earlier. "Though perhaps you should keep the PDA to a minimum, gentlemen. See you later, Harry," and with that the sparkly, feathered man strolled away. Knowing that the man never strolled and only ever skipped, jumped, or ran headlong in a merry sort of way, Harry became worried that he really hurt the other's feelings. Oh well, he thought guiltily, it was best he know now and get it over with. Perhaps he'd find a nice bloke at The Fierce Kitten. Draco didn't exactly feel the same way.

"What an annoying tart of a man," Draco said. "Another Ministry worker, will the wonders never cease?" Harry really wanted him to shut up in that moment. They'd just kissed for the first time in five years. Even though the lips and the eyes and the nose were all wrong, they still felt so right pressed to his. If he concentrated on it, Harry could still feel the hot press of lips, and he did not want to give Draco any chance to ruin that for him. Not yet.

Luckily, it was only a few more blocks before they found a department store. They looked at each other before entering, knowing that beyond the doors were things more horrible than murderous veelas.

_"Mommy I want the Laser Beam Super Sword Maximum!" _

_"What do you mean you're out of stock? How can you be out of stock? You're hear to serve me now do that or I'll find your manager and-,"_

_"Shit, I hope nobody saw that, I'll just gently put it back and hopefully no one will notice…" _

_"Mommy!"_

_"We're all gonna die! We're all gonna die!"  
__  
"Welcome to the Shop 'n' Drop. We hope you enjoy you're visit! Why don't you try looking in the electronics department-?"_

"Forget it," Malfoy said, backing up enough so that the sliding glass doors began to slide open again. "I can wash my clothes just fine. Nothing is worth this."

_Ah, sweet revenge_, Harry thought as he stopped Draco from dashing out of the shop. "Oh, but Malfoy," he said sweetly, "I thought you needed new clothes. What, are you _scared_ of a department store?" When Malfoy's nose wrinkled and his lips changed into a haughty sneer, Harry secretly cheered in his head.

"Of course not, let's do this," he said. And so they did. In the end they both got clothing since, once Harry informed Draco that this was all being paid by the Ministry, the blonde would not let the chance go by easily to spend as much as they—meaning he—wanted. "Harry, your wardrobe, as a standard, is atrocious. We must not make you fight this battle alone!"

Carrying their bags, Harry and Draco began their trek back to the house.

In the silence of their stroll, Harry let his mind drift back to the kiss. Reason saw to it that he shut the vision out of his mind and his tender heart wished he would stop torturing himself with such things, but he couldn't help it. It was something that, even over the five years of mending his heart, he dreamed of feeling again. For whatever reason, there was nothing quite as searing as Draco's lips on his own. He tried dating here and there which resulted in utter mistakes like Gerald Spitz. For whatever reason, nothing could replace Draco Malfoy in Harry's heart no matter how hard he tried. It helped that the kiss had been absolutely perfect as well, although he tried to convince himself of its falsehood. He didn't realize, through this mental turmoil, that they had reached the house and Draco was waiting for him to get them inside.

As Harry expected, the moment he went up to the building, which looked blank, a door materialized for them to enter through. What he didn't expect, however, was that he would trip on the second to last step and fall dramatically to the pavement.


	5. Chapter Four

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** Slash, Drama, blood, strange dreams, bizarre grammar.

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** Hello, beautiful people! Here is my next installment of Being the Other Man. Read and Review please. I apologize now that there is not a great amount of humour in this chapter.

**Being the Other Man  
Chapter Four**

_As Harry expected, the moment he went up to the building, which looked blank, a door materialized for them to enter through. What he didn't expect, however, was that he would trip on the second to last step and fall dramatically to the pavement._

Harry heard Malfoy shout as he twisted and fell on the steps, groaning in pain. There was a long breath of silence as Harry lay there, stunned by his sudden fall. "Auror reflexes my arse," he heard Draco mutter as Harry carefully raised himself up unto his arm, only to wince when he saw the blood quickly gushing from a cut on his elbow. Assessing the damage with a dizzy head, he could only assume that he got a few scrapes. Trying to stand, however, gave greater insight to his injury.

"Only Harry Bloody Potter, defeater of Dark Lords and Savior of the Wizarding World, would lose a battle against stairs," the other continued to mutter, as Harry nearly fell due to a shooting pain in his ankle. "Come on, you idiot, let's get you inside." With Draco's help, they both got inside and Harry limped towards the couch. He relaxed at the mutterings of healing spells on his ankle and other minor injuries. When he looked up, the other had removed the glamour and cool, grey eyes were examining him thoughtfully. The blonde's touches were tender, as he feared pressing his fingers down too hard would injure Harry out of repair. Exhausted from the shopping trip, and feeling a strange sort of lightness he hadn't felt in five years, Harry found himself slipping into a light doze.

After clearing the fog that proceeded most dreams, he found himself back in the Ministry, with his coworkers around him. Shacklebolt was at the podium, speaking to the crowd of fresh and eager aurors that would soon be working under him—Harry among them. The dream was so vivid, Harry felt as if he were reliving his induction day all over again (although he was fairly certain there wasn't a polka-dotted hippogriff sitting next to him when it actually happened). Shacklebolt talked about the moral obligations of an auror, and all of the responsibilities one had to the public and to the Ministry when working as one. Soon, the more interesting portion of the man's speech commenced.

"Since you have taken on the duty of being an auror for the Ministry of Magic, you have in doing that taken on an obligation to respect all ministry workers. It is with that said that I make a few reminders."

"As you remember from the Wilderness Survival Course you all completed, in order to check if you're hydrated or not and are without a wand you are to check your piss to see if it is clear." At the filthy word, there were a few coughs from the portion of the room for family members. The newly-inducted aurors were already aware of Kingsley's turn of phrase and rather absurd rules, and were therefore unaffected by such language. "I could give two shits if you're dehydrated, to be honest with you, but if you don't flush the toilets and leave those clear at least, the custodial staff will have your arse on a platter. I've seen it happen, so flush." There were some knowing smirks among the older aurors who had attended because they had mentored one or two of those with diplomas grasped in their hands. Harry had supposed at the time that the custodial staff was a bunch of grumpy guys that had more bark than bite. Looking at what he knew now, Harry shivered at what he'd seen happen to some of his fellow aurors when they made a mess that the custodial staff had to clean up. He didn't think that Dean would ever look at a mop the same again.

"Next, I would like to remind you that, while I am fair and just, I also could care less about you or your problems. So, if it's something you can fix yourself, fix it. If you can't fix it, then find a way to because it is probably your own damn fault that you got in that situation in the first place. That is also why each of you has been assigned a partner." Harry looked around, as he had when he was here over nine years ago, and caught sight of the blonde a few rows in front of him. He was younger, with features not so jagged from trials that both he and Harry had faced as aurors and further tarnished when they had separated. He was as young and haughty as Harry remembered. Shacklebolt continued speaking but it was beginning to fade away as the blonde took up the main focus in Harry's eyes. "For other more emotional needs, you should go to Miss Abbot, who'll give you the proper care you need…"

The Ministry dimmed around him and Harry blinked. In the next moment, he was in the apartment that Malfoy and he had been sharing about a month after they began to date. This time it was like he was on the outside looking in on the memory, because moments later a younger looking Harry Potter was there leaning against the archway that led into the kitchen. Malfoy was sleeping on the kitchen table, his arms cushioning his head and his hair splayed across them and barely touching the table. It was the longest he remembered Draco's hair ever being, and the pang that had begun in the other dream was beginning to resonate harder as he watched the scene. What hurt worse was that this wasn't just a dream. He remembered catching Draco asleep at the kitchen table many times throughout their relationship, usually doing some sort of paperwork that the blonde had thought could not wait until morning.

Dream-Harry walked slowly into the room, watching the other sleeping man steadily. He was holding the cashmere throw that Draco secretly loved and when Harry reached him, the blanket was draped across narrow shoulders as to ward the chill of the kitchen from the other's bones. The only reaction was a wrinkling of the nose before Draco's face was smoothed by sleep. Dream-Harry watched for a moment longer before running about to make some tea. Harry remembered doing this often, making tea and watching the other sleep on the table before helping him go to bed. He knew it was maybe a nicer thing to do to just wake the other and bring him to bed, but it was too difficult to make that peaceful expression leave Draco's face. Sure enough, tea was made and both Harrys watched the other sleep.

Moments later, Draco shot awake. Dream Harry hardly flinched from putting down his cup. With some time to focus, a blonde brow raised at Harry's antics. "Were you watching me sleep, Potter?" he asked his voice scratchy from sleep.

"No," he replied with a grin, "I was trying to measure the amount of drool you left on the table." Draco was startled at that and looked down at his spot on the table before glaring at Harry, who looked back with a grin.

"Very funny," Draco sneered.

"It was a bit," Harry laughed. It wasn't long before Draco conceded, slightly grinning himself. Once Harry was done focusing on Draco, he saw there were maps all over the table. "What were you working on?"

"Nothing, just work," Draco said, shuffling the papers into a neat pile. Harry tried picking up a map but it was snatched from him before he could get a good look. "It's rude to look at people's things," snapped the blonde.

Harry blinked. "Sorry?" he said.

"Whatever," Draco put everything into order and stood up. "Let's go to bed."

Harry, the one not sitting across from Draco, began to grow pale. He remembered this in a way that was almost too vivid to be a dream. This scene was one of the many that Harry thought might have caused their breakup. Perhaps if he hadn't looked at the maps, Draco wouldn't have snapped and they would have been fine. Harry looked at the map on the table but couldn't read what it said.

Suddenly, he was pulled from his dream and found himself lounging, not on the couch, but in his own bed. Wondering how he got there, Harry looked around dazedly. There was a short struggle of searching to find his glasses, though when he searched the area of the bed on his right he found them neatly placed there. It was dark and took a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they did, his eyes enlightened upon Draco sleeping curled up in the armchair beside his bed.

As always, Harry could hardly stop himself from staring.

Curled up like that, one could forget that Draco was a sharp, witty asshole that could make someone laugh at one moment and then crush their dreams in the same thrust. You, for a moment, could believe that when those sleeping eyes open that they will look at you with something other than cruel disdain or cold indifference. Harry often found himself forgetting; especially now as he watched Draco sleep for the first time in years—if you count out the dream he'd just had. In the silence, he could see just how tired the blonde was. Bags that hadn't been there five years ago were an unhealthy blue, and worry lines were engraved in his forehead. Harry wanted to reach out and brush the worry and weariness from the other's face. Instead, he stayed put. Arm wrapped around his legs, he felt like a young boy, watching the other in mild curiosity. What could have happened in five years that would make the other look so wretched?

Slowly, Harry rose from his bed, about to make himself a pot of tea. For a moment, he paused and glanced again at the tired man who Harry could now see was shivering. With a soft sigh, he picked up a blanket from the bed and brought it over to Draco. With ease, he managed to drape the warm article over the others shaking body, although he did not risk waking him by tucking it in. As if living a dream, Draco's nose wrinkled a moment before he settled back into his slumber. Unable to help himself, Harry pecked the top of the blonde's head before making his getaway.

Harry did not go back upstairs to watch the other sleep with his tea once it had brewed. No, he thought, such an idea was a very, very bad one. Especially as he found himself quickly slipping back into the fires of love, except this time he knew he would be burning there alone.

Glancing at the time, he nearly had to take a second glance. They had gotten home around noon and it was half past eleven by now. Had he been that tired? Unfortunately, that meant that he would probably find no sleep tonight. "Maybe I should have made coffee," he thought to himself as he ruefully stared down at his tea. Before he could get up, he felt a sudden tug at his gut. It was not the same tug as a portkey, but it was as weightless as apparating. The grip was closing in on his stomach and squeezing his heart sharply, and Harry couldn't help but gasp and try grabbing at the pain. It contorted his vision, he realized, as he looked around him and saw that the room seemed so cold and dark…and empty. There was nothing for him in this room, he realized, as he pushed himself from off of the floor—_when did I wind up there?—_and staggered out of the room.

Never had he seen such a house so depressing, such rooms confining. The furniture was hardened by dust and mold, and the walls were decked with stains and holes and slowly pressing closer to each other to trap him. Harry needed to get out of this house; he needed to be free of this godforsaken place! When he turned to look out the window, he could see something glimmering in the distance. That glow was calling to him, promising him release from this nightmare. He was about to press forward to find that freedom, that liberation, that—_what's going on? What's happening to me? Why am I acting like this? Stop and think, idiot!_

He found his vision swimming again as the glimmer began to dim and the room was beginning to take its previous, non-depressing nature. Harry staggered back a moment as his mind began battling this feeling that was still festering inside him. It only took a moment before the implanted thoughts took over again and the glimmer of light outside seemed, once again, so enticing. It was inviting him away from this dark, grim infestation he was living in. _Come outside, and I will release you._ He heard in almost a hiss, not by his ears, but in his mind. Again, Harry began to stagger towards the door. Another voice battled this enticement. _No! Stop it, Harry! Get a hold of yourself!_ Again his vision began to swim and he lost his footing, hitting the ground hard and bringing down a lamp he'd managed to grab onto. With the crash, the voices stopped and the feeling immediately alleviated. He found himself gasping as he lay amongst the shattered remains of the lamp he'd broken. His chest burned with the need to breathe and his body ached as if he'd been carrying a heavy burden for hours.

Harry lay there, inhaling huge gulps of air as if he had not been breathing throughout the entire ordeal. The sound of frantic footsteps resounded from the second floor and swiftly made their way down the stairs, revealing Draco scanning the room before laying eyes on Harry. The immobile auror tried to grin and make light of what had happened but only managed a shaky grimace. "D-Malfoy," he said quietly, realizing his throat was incredibly hoarse. Wincing and coughing, he tried to raise himself up only to feel the crushing ache in his chest press him back to the floor. Soon, Malfoy was by his side, kneeling down next to him, staring a moment. Harry began feeling uncomfortable as the sharp gaze stayed on his face for a particularly long time, but knew he should remain quiet. A lithe hand reached up to Harry's face and swiped gently at his cheeks. When it pulled away, the auror was horrified to see that it had come back wet with tears. Draco rose from the floor and dashed to the window that Harry had seen the glimmering light from, but apparently saw nothing of use if the swearing was any indication.

Harry swiped his face of the remaining tears, although his cheeks were practically soaked in them. Again, he tried to lift himself from the floor but was thwarted by the pain in his chest. He began to cough and Draco hurried back over to him. "What happened?" the blonde asked, surprisingly calm for the manic way he had appeared for the past few minutes.

"I don't know," Harry wheezed.

Frowning, Draco persisted "What do you mean you don't know? Tell me what you remember, Potter."

"I can't," Harry continued, his breathing rattling his lungs as the ache continued to itch and burn.

"You have to, Potter. Tell me what happened." The blonde's panic began to seep back into his cool demeanor as he stared fiercely at Harry, who could hardly manage to breathe correctly, let alone think straight. "Potter!" the sharp tone barked, shocking Harry and making him cough. Almost growling, Draco took Harry by the collar. "You need to tell me what happened to you, now!" Harry could feel his head spin as it was lifted up to stare directly into Draco's eyes. Suddenly, he remembered what this pain felt like, it was such a familiar sensation that he couldn't place it while he lay writhing on the ground. It was the same feeling he felt watching Draco leave that day five years ago. At a sudden shake by Draco's hand, he was startled into consciousness and quickly took the other's hands into his own. They were both panting heavily. As they relaxed, both looked down at their clasped hands. That seemed only a momentary distraction as Draco's hands pushed away from Harry's, revealing smears of blood on their palms. Funny, in his turmoil, Harry could vaguely remember clawing at his own chest almost as if to…

There were many things about veelas that had been revealed to the Wizarding World in order to keep everything orderly and peaceful; they had mates, they were utterly attractive, and they were also utterly sexual. However, as with all creatures, there were many secrets about veela. As an auror, Harry tried to learn as much as he could about them, especially when he was on the Titus Montague case. One interesting fact was, before veelas were domesticated, they feasted upon wizards from time to time. There was one attack that these sexual beings possessed that had killed quite a few innocent wizards: The Heart-breaking Curse. It did exactly as it said; the curse broke the hearts, or rather souls, of its target. The Heart-breaking Curse could only be cast by a veela when their victim is in direct sight. If the veela ever lost contact with the victim during the spell, it would weaken greatly. What did it do? The curse would break the soul of their victim by making their spirit begin to, almost physically, begin to tear in two. This causes delusions that induce depression, paranoia, self-hatred and the feeling of "heart-break", hence the name. It would give the victim the illusion that the only way to ease this pain would be to approach the veela casting the spell. Eventually, the soul would tear in two and leave the victim feeling bereft of any will to live and, in the end, beg to die. The last step to this curse was that, once the target reached the veela they would reach into their own chest and rip out their hearts to give to the creatures before their death.

There were restrictions to the curse, which was discovered when one rogue veela attempted to lure a victim with the Heart-breaking curse only to be reported to St. Mungo's with a very serious case of constipation. Harry hadn't a clue what the restrictions were, which made it very curious as to why he would have suffered it just now. He'd definitely have something to ask Hermione later. However, it was quite obvious, now, what he had suffered. If what he was seeing in Draco's eyes was true, then it seemed like he understood as well.

"It's what I feared," Draco murmured, staring at a spot above Harry's head.

"What?" Harry asked, feeling somewhat breathy.

"He knows we're here."


	6. Chapter Five

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** Non-beta'd, Slash, nothing to dastardly.

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** Hello Beautiful People! Welcome to the next installment of Being the Other Man, and I have an announcement.

_**Announcement:**_ I have found myself in a very peculiar position. I have an idea of where this story is going, but I am finding myself lacking the fortitude to go on. So I need your help. **Please** review with some idea of where you would like the story to go, suspicions or questions you have, anything. What an author needs in order to continue a story is the drive, and currently mine has been spent on exams, essays, and--ultimately--schoolwork (Blech!). If I don't get any sort of response after this chapter, I will have to postpone the next chapter until I get inspiration which, I assure you, will be a very long time. This is a call for help. Thank you.

With that said!

**Being the Other Man  
Chapter Five**

It took fifteen full minutes before the pain lessened enough for Harry to stand up. Draco, however, was wearing a path into the floor with his pacing.

"Why are you pacing?" Harry asked. Draco didn't even bother looking at him.

"I'm trying to think where we can go."

Harry's brows furrowed. "We'll just go back to the Ministry of Magic, report what happened, and get a different location." Draco practically growled at the suggestion. "What do you suggest we do then?"

"I don't know. If I knew, I wouldn't have to think about it. But I do, so be quiet!" Harry blinked. He hadn't realized it until now, but it was quite disturbing to see this side of Draco again after so long. Affected by bitterness, Harry remembered the blonde being cool, aloof, and rather arrogant. As he allowed this familiarity to sink in, however, he remembered how riled Draco got over things that he cared about. With a brief stab, Harry recalled how the man would often get riled up over him. _That was over now_, he thought. Suddenly, the blonde halted and looked up with bright eyes.

"Hawaii! We could travel to Hawaii. Go pack your bag, Potter we'll be leaving in a few minutes." As Draco began to go up the stairs to reach his own room, Harry decided he'd had enough.

"I'm not going to Hawaii!" he shouted up the stairs. He heard a silence.

"Yes, you are!" was the reply as fast feet began milling about. Harry sighed and climbed the stairs to where Draco was. "I don't see you packing."

"That's because we're not going to go anywhere until we go back to the Ministry. If you want to go to Hawaiithat's fine, but I've got to check in with Kingsley first." Harry said, standing in the doorway and watching as Draco continued to pack like a mad demon.

"We don't have time," the other insisted, throwing the old clothes and the new ones from that day into an empty suitcase.

"Then let's go to the Ministry now," Harry persuaded.  
"We're not going to go to the Ministry, Potter. Get your shit together, already!"

"Not going to the Ministry? What are you a lunatic? We have to go back! We've been found out and we have to report back as soon as possible." Draco slammed the drawer shut. It made a heavy noise that rattled the room and slowly the blonde turned to look at Potter with simmering irritation.

"And why do we have to report back?" Draco asked, his tone clipped. Harry blinked and cleared his throat. Before he could retort, the other asked another question. "No, the question more like it is why do _you_ have to report back? What the hell happened to you? I was joking before when I said that you'd become a suck up for the rules, but I hadn't known that…you're practically a mockery!"

Insulted, Harry snapped back, "A mockery?! Is that what you call me?"

"Yes! What the fuck happened to you? You never used to care so much about stupid protocol. You know how pointless it is. What makes you think it's so important now?" About to reply, Harry was interrupted yet again. "Can't you see how corrupt the Ministry is? It's teeming with worthless rats and goons that just want to smother their grubby little fingers with fame and glory. Things that they don't deserve, like money and power, clutter their very dreams. That infernal place is not a place of justice but of conformity and stagnancy! And you, you saw through that all those years ago. You fought for the justice of the Wizarding World as hard as any of us. But now even the Aurors are corrupt it seems, and you're just joining in with them aren't you? What, Potter, are you throwing the towel in and calling it a day? Where the fuck did the real Potter go?"

Halfway through, Harry knew Draco was just trying to get a rise out of him. But there were too many things said in those few seconds and Harry was practically seeing red, but he managed to keep his tightened fists at his side. "Pardon me if I'm wrong," he said in a quiet sort of fury that rocketed deep within his core. "But maybe you would know where the fuck the 'real Potter' went if you hadn't left."

Draco scoffed. "Oh is that it, Potter? Is that what you've got to combat me with? Where's your fire, Potter?"

In that moment, the thrill of punching Draco in the face was so tempting he could practically feel his knuckles slicing through the porcelain flesh. It was utterly invigorating. Still, he managed to quench it. "It burnt out," he hissed. "You seem to be forgetting who's running this operation, Malfoy. _You_ came to _us._ If I seem so keen on reminding you it's because you seem equally as eager to forget that fact."

"Please, as if I need the Ministry's bloody help with anything."

"Then why in fuck's name did you want my help?" Harry asked, quite literally on his last straw.

"I didn't," he said stiffly. It was at that moment that Harry decided it wasn't worth the battle. Everything was getting too jumbled, and in all honesty he probably wasn't in the best place to talk this out reasonably. He didn't bother to note that he was feeling the strange tearing feeling in his chest again at the harsh statement, in favor of ignoring the painful fiend. He knew that, this time, no veela was cause for the pain.

"Then, when we get back to the Ministry, you can request help from elsewhere." Harry about-faced and walked towards the doorway. "Be ready in five minutes." Met with silence, he proceeded to his room to begin packing up his own things. He allowed himself a moment to calm down by resting his fists against the bed taking a deep breath in and pushing it out softly. He was not about to let the fact creep upon him that once they went to the Ministry, Draco would probably be assigned to a different unit and that would be the end of their foray. As great as the agony had been with such stale air between them, there had been a small ray of hope that they would one day be able to speak as…well he daren't think it now. He prided himself to be past tears by now, although he did find it terribly difficult to restrain now. Counting to ten silently, he began to pack what little belongings he'd brought with him as well as the clothes Draco made him purchase. Feeling a tingle run down his neck, he continued to pack for a moment before calling behind him, "What do you need, Malfoy?" He needn't look back to know that the man was there. Sure enough, Draco entered the room, an unreadable expression on his face. Harry continued to pack until the silence became so thick that he was forced to stop and give the blonde his undivided attention. Draco was looking out the window at the dark world beyond it.

"Are you okay?" Draco finally asked. At the lack of response, he continued to elaborate, "You…it's known to hurt rather terribly, the curse you just went through. Do you need anything?" Draco was looking anywhere but at him, but Harry was already lost as a small butterfly began a weak flutter in his stomach. It was a flutter, for whatever reason, he could not still.

"It wasn't so bad," he replied, in a strange attempt to alleviate the other's worry. "Well, it was, but I've had worse." In his endeavor to relieve Draco, he seemed to make him more leery. "What?"

"You've had worse?" he asked. "The Heart-breaking curse is the involuntary tearing of your soul. What could you have suffered that was worse?" Immediately, an image of biscuits and hot chocolate reared its ugly head in Harry's mind.

"It's not your business, Malfoy," he quietly insisted. "I'm fine." He promptly shut his suitcase and spelled it smaller. "Are you ready?" He didn't manage to notice before that Draco's suitcase was missing from the room. "I'll get your bag, and then we'll go. You'll be on your way to Hawaii before you know it."

"Potter…"

"And I'm sure there'll be lots to do there. Hawaii's a great place, and it'll be good to hide from a veela there what with their pale complexions and all that. Then again you're rather pale too so it might not be that great."

"Hey, Potter—,"

"And it's probably nice this time of year so maybe you can snag one of the more lenient guys in the aurors and you can go to a beach or something. There'll be lots of good looking folks in bikinis."

"Harry."

Well that stopped him. Harry looked back to see Draco with a strange, almost vulnerable look on his face. His arms were crossed but his face was utterly innocent, which was very unusual for the blonde in any sort of way. Realizing Harry was waiting, Draco sighed. "Harry, we can't go back to the Ministry about this."

"Why not?"

"I can't tell you."

"Then I can't help you, Malfoy." Harry tried walking away again.

"Harry." The name jolted him a second time.

"If you can't tell me why then we have to go."

"I want to tell you!" Draco said, nearly desperate. "I just can't right now."

"Then that's tough for you."

"Please, Harry—,"

"Stop calling me that!" Harry shouted at him, finally losing his cool. "What gives you the right to use my first name against me like that?"

"Please…"

Harry stared hard at Draco, his grip wrapping around the handle of Draco's suitcase. "You've gone from telling me that you don't want me with you to calling me by my first name. I don't know what sick game you're playing, Malfoy, but I want out."

Draco's smarmy attitude attempted its comeback. "Why, you giving up?"

Harry had a very extensive amount of patience. Yet even the great peace makers of the world had a limit, and he was much the same. "Malfoy, stop pretending you're better than me. You're the one who left, not me. Whatever problems you have with me can wait until you get a new guard." It was quiet for a moment. Harry began to lift the heavy load in the silence.

"I'm not going to the Ministry."

Harry groaned and rested the case down again. "Why not?"

"Because it's not going to help," Draco replied, leaving the other vaguely surprised at the desperateness of his tone.

"Why do you think I'm going to believe that?"

"Think about it, Potter," Harry nearly breathed a sigh of relief as the blonde called him by his surname again. "Why was Ti—why was the veela able to look in?" Draco didn't give him time to answer, "The only danger would should have been in today was when we were walking to the department store. Once inside of a Fidelius charmed house, no one should be able to see it, unless…"

"Unless someone told Montague about the location," Harry said in realization, his eyes widening. "But the only person who knows about it is Kingsley!"

"No, the only people who know about it are Kingsley and the person who informed him of the location," Malfoy corrected. "So if we go to the Ministry now, we're only going to get sent into another trap."

"Then we need to report it to Kingsley!"

"No we don't," Draco said, sounding as if he were at the end of his rope.

"But then this person can cause more damage," Harry argued.

"The only person he wants to damage is us, Potter, why don't you get it? Telling Kingsley is the first thing that this person expects us to do. The only thing we can do is run."

It was quiet for a beat. "You're just going to have to trust me, Potter."

And it was at this point that Harry found himself in a predicament worthy of hysteria. To trust the one man he could not trust? Such a concept was too outrageous to believe! How did Draco think Harry was possibly going to succumb to such a request. Harry looked up and stared into those grey pools, and for the first time in five years he saw pleading in their depths.

"Draco, I—,"

"Please," was the harsh, whispered reply. Eye contact was not broken between the two as Draco waited for Harry's answer. That particular word was used so infrequently by Malfoy even when they had been in love, so Harry knew the weight the word carried. For the first time in five years, he found himself taking a risk. With a sigh, Harry followed his instincts.

"When is the next flight to Hawaii?"


	7. Chapter Six

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** Yelling, Cursing, Angstangstangst. I also warn you that I am not well versed in House Elf speak...so it sounds a little more like Gollum than anything else. I apologize, haha. Otherwise, the usual non-beta'd, babbling diatribe as usual.

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** Hello Beautiful People and welcome to my next installment of Being the Other Man. I would, first off, like to thank those who reviewed on my last chapter. The response was, and is, definitely appreciated. Please don't stop reviewing, guys. It's amazing how a few well-placed words can make an author's day. So let me know what you guys think!

**Being the Other Man  
Chapter Six**

Unfortunately, the plan to travel to Hawaii was stopped short when they realized, in order to travel such distances, they would be exposed to the public for far too long to not be noticed. Even under a glamour, their cover was blown within a day of going outside the house. Any form of magical travel was also a foolish notion, according to Draco, since the Heart-break curse took a few days to fully heal. Harry could easily suffer major heart problems if he attempted it. This inspired another bout of quarreling between the two men, that it would be a far better idea for Draco to go with an auror who was not already exposed. Draco shook his head and didn't even bother replying to the very logical thought process. There was something that the other obviously knew, but was holding back from Harry, who should be privy to such information since he was guarding the bastard. Until Malfoy opened his mouth, though, the disgruntled auror would have to remain in the dark.

Harry's head was still spinning at his decision to follow through with this insubordination against the Ministry. Draco had been right—a little too right—about his sudden dedication to following the rules to a T. The past five years had been a practice of following orders and slipping under the radar for Harry, which he had gotten rather good at until Malfoy had come back.

The two men now had to think of a new plan; although Harry had a suspicion the idea of Hawaii had been a whim on Draco's part. Gathering themselves around the table, Harry began the preparations of making tea, since it was likely to be a long night. Draco stayed silent at the table, presumably formulating a new plan. Harry was doing so as well as he kept his hands busy readying their tea, knowing that the decision would ultimately left up to him. With Draco's attitude, it was easy to forget that the blonde was the one in need of help. Sometimes, Harry felt this inkling that Draco thought it was the other way around, which was ridiculous. After all, the blonde stopped caring about Harry years ago, didn't he?

Didn't he?

Apparently, the noises the auror was making while preparing the tea was deeply disturbing Draco. "Could you stop that? Just sit down at the table," the blonde snapped. Harry slowly put down what he was doing and turned towards the other. Before he could reply, the other continued, grudgingly, "I'm a bit…apprehensive at the moment, and your milling about isn't helping. Just, please, sit?" Now silent for a completely different reason, namely confusion, Harry complied and let the kettle begin warming on the stovetop before sitting down across from Draco.

The silence that followed was heavy and echoed through the room like an overweight tap-dancer. Harry had difficulty thinking of an escape plan with such dead air, and the need to fidget was overpowering. Draco remained still as his eyes focused on the corner of the table. Not wanting to interrupt whatever the blonde was formulating, Harry did his best to focus anywhere other than him. He couldn't help that his traitorous gaze would travel up and down Draco's body, analyzing each individual feature with precision. Luckily he could only see so far as the table let him, otherwise the situation would have gotten uncomfortable. There were still other parts of the blonde's anatomy that had made Harry salivate when they were dating, however, and such parts were still as glorious. His eyes skated over Draco's hands that Harry imagined were as warm and inviting as they had been when they were dating. He looked over the way Draco's muggle t-shirt fit tight enough on his frame to show the lean muscle that lay dormant underneath. The man's facial features were pointy and jagged at first glance, although the porcelain skin that covered them was flawless, spare the slight scar on his left cheek from a slicing hex that healed incorrectly. Although the man was thin and wan from whatever trials he must have suffered, Harry knew for a fact that because of this pompous, bigheaded, Adonis of a man he would never feel lust, if not love, for any other.

Harry recalled his feelings of rage towards Draco at the beginning of their breakup. He'd seen that bastard blossom from the rat-faced brat he was into this beautiful piece of aesthetically pleasant wonder. _He is mine_, he remembered chanting in his mind, fading with time and hopelessness.

Even now, his heart pounded the mantra faintly with each heartbeat. Yet with each inhalation of breath, another traitorous memory would whisk past his brain to incur more pain. With that pain accompanied a high level of lust that had remained dormant ever since that day five years ago. From the sweet caresses and the lingering bruises of passionate lovemaking, Harry found himself being repeatedly bombarded by these visions. Still he remained sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the other, far more focused man across from him.

Was it him, or had it gotten rather hot in here? He stared down and realized that it quite possibly was just him if the tent in his pants was any consolation. Trying to will it down, he shut his eyes momentarily, thinking of the most horrible thing he could think of (which in the end turned out to be a rather twisted scenario of walking in on Filch and Slughorn and…what exactly was Mrs. Norris doing down there…?) before reopening them with his cheeks cooler than before. However, his eyes readjusted to seeing Draco staring right at him with the strangest look on his face, as if Harry was the most fascinating, confusing creature he'd ever seen.

They stared at each other for a long while, neither breaking eye-contact. Suddenly, they were startled by the tea kettle whistling that its contents were ready. Harry leapt from his chair and swiftly turned down the flames of the stove and prepared them two, steaming mugs of hot tea. Looking down, he silently thanked Merlin for the situation in his pants having calmed down in time to avoid inevitable embarrassment.

As they sipped at their teas, Harry tried to focus his thoughts on their escape. He was startled out of his planning by a sudden laugh from the blonde and cut his gaze up to meet Draco's, whose grey irises were clouded with a pained amusement. "What?" Harry asked when the other didn't bother explaining himself.

"I was just thinking about something," the blonde said quietly, after emitting another chuckle. "Remember when we were at the Aurors' Ball after our first year as partners, and we got Kingsley drunk?"

Harry remembered exactly what he was talking about. "You mean _you_ got him drunk. I had nothing to do with it," he said, a small smirk twitching his lips.

"Oh, don't you go about twisting that sordid little event, Potter," Draco replied, "You were the one to distract the bugger while I tipped some Ogden's into his goblet. The act could not have been possible without you."

"I was congratulating him on winning Auror of the Year, you bastard!" Harry exclaimed, both corners of his mouth tightening into a smile. "You were always trying to prank someone. I'm surprised you never got along with George and Fred with how you were always up to something. Then again, it's probably all for the best. Hogwarts would have become a hazard to the Wizarding World, I'm sure."

Draco continued to chuckle, taking another sip of his tea. "Please, I wouldn't have associated with those heathens even if there was a chance to. They harassed each other just as much as they did anyone else. I'd rather be left alone to my own devices than a continuous target of their…creativity." Harry barked a laugh at that, and they both sat in a pleasant haze as they thought back on the twins and the ire they caused the professors (and Hermione). The few moments of quiet were alarmingly peaceful and forced Harry to realize two things. One, that he'd been rather uptight throughout their stay in this house, due to the blonde across from him—and two—that he was rather exhausted from the ordeal he'd just been through a little while ago. Trying to maintain clarity, while also fending off the tension he'd been holding for nearly a month now, he returned to formulating a plan for their immediate escape. But each thought lead to a dead end, so he decided that there wasn't enough information to form an appropriate plan. That only meant one thing could be done.

"Malfoy," Harry said, his voice shaking the blonde from whatever he was thinking. "In order to create a proper plan, I need to know why Montague is following you." Where there had once been amusement in Draco's eyes swiftly transitioned into irritation. "You know you should tell me. How else am I supposed to protect you?" Draco scoffed. "What?"

"Nothing," Draco bit out.

"No," Harry retorted, "You have to tell me. Why are you being followed?"

"You don't need to know," Draco snapped.

"God damn it, Draco!" Harry shouted, slamming the table with his fist in pent up frustration. "What is your deal?! You ask the Ministry for help, but don't tell them why you need help. That's fine, since apparently you don't want the Ministry knowing anything else about this mission. Then you get assigned to me, and you still don't tell anyone why you need the help. This is not fine, because I need to know what is going on!"

"Why the hell do you need to know, Potter?" Draco barked back.

"Because I'm protecting you, you twit!" Harry replied.

"The fuck you are! You can barely protect yourself!" the blonde retaliated. Harry hadn't realized he was standing until he stumbled back at the retort. He felt his chest aching again and his eyes burned with weariness. This was really getting too much, not to mention repetitive.

"Then why won't you let me go?" he asked, voice dull and exhausted.

"Couldn't I ask you the same thing?!" Draco fired back. He was also standing and, from the looks of it, was top-filled with anger. Even though Harry had learned over the years that the harsh things people say in anger should not always be taken seriously, such cutting words pierced through him in a way that the Heartbreaking curse could barely imagine.

"W-what?" Harry asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"If you weren't such a stubborn Gryffindor, this whole thing could have been avoided! You inflicted this on yourself, Potter, not me!" Draco wasn't making sense.

"Draco, what are you talking about?" he asked.

"It's you," Draco growled, grabbing the back of his chair and embedding his nails into the soft wood. "Why does it always have to come back to you?" Trying to amend the situation, Harry reminded Draco that he'd offered to have the blonde reassigned to another guard which only caused the other to scoff. "You just don't get it."

This rekindled the fury from moments ago into a glowing flame. "No, I don't, because you don't tell me anything! Tell me what's going on!"

"No!"

Harry was startled again by the harsh, yet childish, reply. No, Harry decided, enough was enough. "You are going to tell me right now, Malfoy, or I _am_ going to go to the floo. I _am_ going to go to the Ministry, and I most _certainly_ will get you a different guard. I am tired of this shit, Malfoy!" Harry bellowed. His throat began to tingle at the end of his threat, causing him to cough a moment. In a quieter voice he said, "Why are you making this so bloody difficult, Draco?"

"Don't you trust me, Harry?" Draco asked. There was that funny word again: trust. The word was really starting to get on his nerves.

"No, I don't," Harry replied, crisply, "Since you have given me absolutely no reason to trust you to begin with." His fingers were trembling as he ran them through his hair.

"You're being ridiculous," the other chided. Normally, such a retort would have infuriated Harry, but he felt, genuinely, that enough was enough.

"Okay, Malfoy," he said, getting up without a second thought towards his half-empty mug of tea. Harry walked out of the kitchen, but was stopped by the blonde's surprised response.

"Okay? _Okay?_ Is that all you have to say?"

Harry felt himself laughing, although he felt more hollow than anything. "Yes, Malfoy, that's all I have to say. Somehow, I have to figure out a place that we can go as soon as I am able, but," his grin tightened as he turned back to the disgruntled blonde, "I find myself a bit too _ridiculous_ to think around you. I'll be upstairs." He continued to walk away, but stopped momentarily to add, "If you happen to think of anything, however, please let me know." With that, he went up the stairs and removed himself from the blonde's over-bearing presence.

When Harry reached his room, he took a few moments to calm down and force the awful turn in their conversation out of his mind. Although he had absolutely nothing to go on, it was apparent that he was going to have to make a makeshift plan. For a while, it seemed like nothing would come. In such an impossible situation, any possibilities were slim to none. Every lead he thought he could imagine had a fatal flaw in it so he'd have to scrap it. Beginning to grow desperate, he flopped upon his bed and pressed his palms into his eyes, shoving his glasses high unto his forehead. Whenever a seemingly impossible situation arose, he found himself thinking of his old and most beloved mentor, Dumbledore. Sometimes, he found himself talking to Dumbledore, as if he were still there (which inspired more than a normal amount of psychiatric tests provided by the Ministry, until they decided that as long as Harry did the job right he was allowed to be as loony as he liked). He liked to think that the dead wizard could still hear him and occasionally fancied that there was a reply that floated to Harry's ear on the breeze. He imagined that's how those who followed religion must feel when they chatted up their gods.

"Dumbledore," he whispered into the darkness. "I'm not sure what to do. Everything's getting so convoluted, although it would help if Malfoy even bothered to speak to me more than just to insult me." He took a deep breath, mentally chiding himself for not focusing on the task at hand. "But I'm not really sure what I should do. I don't know of any hideouts in America, and to apparate from here would be suicide unless I were…" he stopped momentarily as he got an idea. This idea suddenly grew like wildfire until the largest grin he could muster pulled on his lips. "…a house elf!" he exclaimed, jumping up into a seated position on the bed. He hoped to Merlin this would work, clearing his throat.

"Kreacher?" he called out into the darkness. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Kreacher?"

There was nothing. With a sigh, Harry lay back down feeling that the attempt had been wasted. He'd been sure that—suddenly, a popping sound rang out from behind him. The auror quickly turned at the sound of an irritated, croaking grumble. The oh-too-familiar sound was like music to his ears. "Kreacher!" he exclaimed with joy, hurrying over to the other side of the bed.

"Master," Kreacher said cordially, which wasn't quite as unusual since the Battle at Hogwarts. "Kreacher not seen Master in many years since he left the House of Black, oh yes. Now he calls me here? Why, Kreacher asks."

Harry quickly got down to business. "Kreacher, I need you to do something for me. Will you help me?" After a curt nod and a nervous rubbing of hands on the house elf's part, Harry quickly instructed him of what to do. "I need you to buy a portkey for me from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," he was so glad that the twins had managed to get a portkey distributing license, or this would have been damn near impossible. "Buy one that specifically goes to the shore of the English Channel. Here," he went to his bureau and pulled out a pouch with emergency funds and placed them in Kreacher's outstretched hand. "You must not reveal who you are buying this for, although I'm sure that Fred and George will figure it out soon enough. Do try to remain unseen, okay Kreacher? Can you do this for me?"

Kreacher puffed out his tiny chest as far as it could go with dignity. "Of course, Kreacher serves Master as is fit, he does." And with a pop, the eager house elf was gone. Harry slowly sank into the mattress in the wake of the house elf's departure. He hoped beyond hope that this could work. When they got the portkey, he could apparate the both of them to the caves where the fake locket had been discovered. He'd been back to the caves during his latest five years as an auror, doing some routine inspections of Voldemort's old stomping grounds. It was now a dormant habitat. At Voldemort's death, the Inferi once again were brought to peace and lay in the water as corpses, until the Ministry exhumed the bodies and buried them in a proper way as an order of one Mister Harry Potter. He was one of the only people who ever frequented the location, undaunted by the creepy atmosphere it possessed. For now, the location would have to do.

There was a lot that was bound to go wrong with this plan. Montague could find them in the caves. Harry, if what Draco said about magical travel was true, might suffer some sort of repercussions from the transport. However, this was the only way that Harry could think of in such a short span of time. If he suffered some sort of heart failure in his travels, Draco could apparate himself back to the Ministry easily once they were back in England. If Montague somehow found them, then Harry would find a way to face him head on and stop all of this madness so that he could return to his dull, weary life and finally rid himself of Draco Malfoy forever.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** HD Slash, cursing, angst, actual plot progression, sarcasm blahblahblah.

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** Hello Beautiful People. Here is the very next installment of Being the Other Man. Hoorah. I was going to add more to this chapter, but I refrain for now. Keep me updated with reviews and happiness. I love happiness, nearly as much as I love pie and french fries.

**Being the Other Man  
Chapter Seven**

It was bloody freezing in here. Harry groaned as he got off the bed to turn down the air-conditioning. When he finished doing so, he found himself looking out the window. The sun was slowly beginning to rise and he could see the water glimmering with light. Maybe, when this was over with, he could take a real vacation here. He could go out drinking frilly alcoholic beverages while chatting up gorgeous, tan blokes with brains the size of walnuts and nuts the size of…well anyway. A small twinge of unaccountable guilt settled in his conscious at that thought, and he cursed himself for still being in love with the stupid, pointy prat that was probably moping downstairs about nothing. "Stupid git," Harry muttered to himself, losing interest in the dreams outside the window. Slumping over to the bed, he crashed back down upon it waiting for Kreacher to come back.

Harry buried in his blankets and took solace in the quiet of the room. His thoughts began to drift as he lay with his glasses pressing uncomfortably against the bridge of his nose. With a grunt, he removed the glasses to place them down on the bedside table and turned his head to lie down again_._ As he lay, he heard the sound of cautious footsteps nearing him. Although Harry was positive it was the other housemate, he gently fondled the wand in his pocket. Draco must want to start yet another argument. Licking his lips to wet them, Harry called out, "What do you want?" only to be met with silence. The footsteps ceased, but by the prickling feeling on his neck he knew that the source was still in the room. With a groan, Harry turned and glared at the unwanted guest. "Draco," he said tiredly, "what do you want?" The blonde still remained quiet. No response forthcoming, Harry gave up on that tactic and tried another. "I've figured out a place for us to go, so you need to go pack if you've not already done so." Again, there was no response and Harry felt himself getting a little impatient. "What is it?" he asked, sharply.

Harry was going to again prod the man into speaking (or prod him out the window) when Draco took the initiative. "You said," the blonde began, "That if I happened to think of anything to come tell you."  
"Yeah," Harry slowly agreed, "I did." He waited for Draco to continue, but the man remained silent. "So did you think of something?" Draco carefully leaned against the doorframe, resting his temple against the rigid wood.

"Yes," Draco confessed. "I thought of how ridiculous this all is."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I mean, this," the blonde pointed between Harry and himself. "This animosity is so stupid. None of it is going to matter in the long run, so why are we fighting now?"

"Simple," Harry replied, wearily putting the glasses back on and standing up, "because you're an ass." Draco was surprised at the blunt answer if his gaping jaw was to say anything about it. "And if that's it, I've got a plan. There's no need to come in here to chat. Get ready."

Draco's mouth managed to close and one brow rose. "So that's it?"

Harry nodded. "That's it."

Taking one step closer the blonde continued, "Don't you even care that I'm saying I won't fight you anymore?" Harry made sure to keep his reserve as he nodded.

"You're right," he said with a sigh. "This entire business is ridiculous. In fact, I should have said no to this mission when I saw you in my office."

"I wouldn't have allowed anyone else to guard me," Draco retorted in disbelief.

"That still wouldn't have made it my problem, Draco," Harry replied. "You left me not the other way around."

Draco cursed and ran an impatient hand through his hair. "Sweet Merlin, Harry, how long are you going to keep saying that? I know I left you, why can't you just get over it?"

"Because you came back," Harry snapped.

"It's been five years!" Draco shouted.

"It's been twenty one!" Harry fired back.

"You're crazy, it has not," the blonde retorted.

"Since the first moment I saw you in the robe shop it's been twenty one years, Malfoy," the auror explained, losing much of the calm he had tried reigning in. "For seven of those years we hated each other. For two years after that, we were auror partners who depended on each other in every mission. That was until we decided to forge a different kind of partnership with me fucking your brains out for another two years. Therefore, we have been together in some form for much longer than five years, and if the amount of time I take to get over this is longer than you care for then that's you're problem."

"You're just making this hard for yourself on purpose," the other spat. "You've still got your Boy Who Lived complex. 'Oh, look at me. My boyfriend left me five years ago and I'm still bitter about it boo-hoo.' Though apparently you didn't miss me that badly if the sparkly fruit I met at the ministry was any consolation."

"I was drunk!" Harry replied, red-faced.

"Well then get drunk again and find someone else, and get over it," Draco retorted.

The distance between the two men was closing rapidly as their ire escalated. "Is that what you think it takes?" Harry asked, voice squeaking at Draco's absurdity. "Just get drunk and fuck until you forget everything?"

"Yes, actually, I hear that's a pretty popular way to get over things," was the reply.

"I can't do that, there's my job to think about. If they catch me getting wasted all the time then I could lose my position."

"Please," Draco scoffed, "you couldn't lose your job if you tried."

"I definitely could, Malfoy."

"No you can't. You're the Boy Who Lived, why would they ever--,"

"Stop it!" Harry shouted while shoving Draco in the shoulders, wishing the asshole would just shut up. "You think everyone still worships me? Are you really that stupid?"

Draco shirked away from his touch slightly, but regained composure with record speed, still Harry would do anything to make sure that mouth shut up. "Yeah, I have a nice office. That's because after you left I started taking up more missions and lengthening my hours. I _earned_ it, Draco. I did all the paperwork I had to do, and got shit taken care of so I was rewarded for my efforts with my position. I'm pretty sure that's the way it works, isn't it?" Harry stepped even closer to Draco, which was slightly awkward because the blonde was about an inch taller than him. Still, his muscular frame filled out his height nicely to make him at least slightly imposing. The blank expression on Draco's face left Harry wondering if it were effective at all. "It seems like the only person who cares that I'm the Boy Who Lived anymore is you, which is funny because you had always told me that I was more than that stupid name. I guess it's just another thing you lied about while we were dating."

"Hey, I didn't lie to you about anything," Draco spat indignantly. "And you're wrong; they have never stopped looking past your name, let alone your scar."

"How would you know anything?" Harry replied.

"I just do," Draco cryptically answered, as if realizing he had said too much.

"No, Malfoy that is not going to cut it anymore. You're telling me what you know, and you're telling me right now or I will send you back to the Ministry in a comatose gift basket."

"Wouldn't you lose your job that way?" Draco tried to sneer, but seemed a bit too cornered to really pull it off.

"Oh, Draco, I didn't know you cared," Harry sarcastically crooned before his tone turned deadly serious. "Tell me."

The silence that followed was almost deafening but Harry could see the walls around Draco's mind giving some way as the blonde looked at the ground.

"Potter, you know that a lot of things are not as they seem. That is the first thing we learned in auror training, in Hogwarts even." Harry nodded, allowing the blonde to continue. "So when I tell you that it seems that the Ministry has forgotten that you are the Boy Who Lived, it is a lie."

"Why should I believe you?" Harry asked. Again, Draco went silent then spoke in a voice so…gentle that Harry had to blink twice in surprise.

"Remember when I asked you if you would leave England with me?" Harry squinted in thought as he could hazily remember a time when Draco asked if he would like to move out of England. He nodded. "What did you say?"

"Well, I hardly remember," Harry replied, defensively. "You always asked all of these hypothetical questions, and you…when you asked you were saying something absurd about building a hut in Africa and shooting poisoned darts at random passersby. Then you asked if you went to do that would I come with you. I thought you…you weren't joking?" Slowly, Draco shook his head. "Well why didn't you just ask me like a normal human being?"

"Because what would have the answer been if I asked you normally?"

Harry was about to reply with what he obviously felt "_YES! YES! YES!" _but he stopped himself before he could speak. At the time that Draco had asked, many of the death eaters had been rising up to fight for power against the Ministry, as well as a strange group of vigilantes consisting of war orphans who were killing ex-death eaters in vengeance for the family members they had lost during Voldemort's Uprising. It had been a very hectic time, too much for the Ministry to deal with without Harry's help. They had told him how valued he was and they trusted he could do his job the best. He wouldn't have left.

"I would have said no," Harry finally sighed, stepping back a little. "Not without a good reason."

Draco nodded, "I was hoping, maybe if I got you even to say it in a joke I could…I don't know...hold it against you or something."

"Hold it against me?" Harry asked, halting in his step to look at the blonde. "Why?"

"Because I was trying to get us both out of England, and I needed a way to do it. I tried to trick you into coming away with me, but even then you're so stubborn."

Harry didn't know the proper way to react to this, so instead he asked, "So…why does this have anything to do with the Ministry?"

"Because before I left I had a little chat with Kingsley. Do you know what he told me?"

_Probably something along the line of "Why are you in my office, can't you see I'm drowning in my loathing?"_ Harry shook his head. He gazed into the blonde's eyes and saw them working furiously, as if a great conflict had risen in his mind. Eventually the man gave in and continued.  
"I needed to leave England," Draco said, "_We_ needed to leave England, but I knew that if I asked you to leave, you would have said no. So I tried Kingsley. Maybe he would tell you to leave. To get out of there at least for your safety, he could tell you that you were to go on mandatory leave. They would have been fine without you there all the time. And they would have, Harry. They only made you think that you were necessary for the capture all those idiots back then, but that was just because they wanted to keep you right under their finger."

"But why? I haven't done anything significant since the Battle at Hogwarts." Harry remarked, confusedly.

Draco looked at the other man in disbelief. "Harry, you killed one of the darkest wizards ever to grace the earth…a few years isn't going to erase that from a person's memory." Then, the blonde shook his head and got back to the topic at hand.

"So I asked him to let you leave, even for a short time. He told me that such a thing was out of the question. As much as I tried to get him to listen he wouldn't. Finally, when it was obvious he wouldn't budge on that, I changed tactics." Draco, as he grew more impassioned in his story-telling, began to pace. "I asked him to just keep you undercover for a while. I'd only need so long, then it would all be over and you could go back to your superman act all over again. It seemed like he was going to bend on it, which was why for a short while we had only stake out cases, do you remember?" Harry silently nodded. "That was of course until…until," Draco finally went silent, looking as if the world had suddenly gone and taken the breath right out of him.

"Until what?" Harry asked, urgent. He noticed that the blonde's hands were white fists shaking at his sides.

"Until the bastard escaped," Draco hissed.

Harry was just about to ask who he meant, when a loud 'pop' came from the other side of the room, making both men reach for their wands. Harry realized it was Kreacher and hurried towards the elf to ensure he was alright.

"Kreacher is fine," the house elf said, as if it were absurd to think anything else. "Kreacher has brought what Master asked for. The Weasley wizard said it should set off at this word." The small elf brought out a small piece of paper with the word "Sneezlepops" on it. Nodding, Harry thanked the elf and made sure he would keep this entire thing a secret before letting him pop away.

"What was that?!" Draco exclaimed.

"My plan," Harry replied. "Get your things." At the other's lack of movement, Harry accio'd all of Draco's things into a pile with his own and brought the man over to them so all of the pieces were touching.

"Wait! Where exactly are we going?" Draco asked, looking a bit wild.

"Where they least expect us," Harry replied. "England. Sneezlepops!" And with a pull of the naval they were gone.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** HD Slash, More Plot Progression, some kissing...more angst.

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** Hello Beautiful People. I know, you're probably thinking "Wowzewow! She posted the next day?!" Yes. Yes I did. I had some time this morning and I thought hey, I should probably start wrapping up that story soon. So I started writing and I've written a fair amount so, instead of waiting, I'm posting. I've realized this story went in a far more angsty direction than I first anticipated. Oops, haha. So I'm changing the genre to "Angst" and...well, romance I suppose. Also, this is a very pivotal! chapter. Aka: try not to skip this one haha. Please review!

**Being the Other Man  
Chapter Eight**

The boys landed with a muffled thud onto the shores of the English Channel. The weather was damp and cold, with a heavy overcast of dark grey fog (typical English weather, truly). Making one quick (and very professional) sweep over Draco's body with his eyes in search of injury (since, once again, it was a very professional sweep over), Harry glanced around him and saw that it was completely barren of people. Not wanting to test his luck, he began envisioning their next destination and reached out for Draco's arm again, only to find it pulled away swiftly.

"Come on, Draco, we have to go," Harry said, his eyes still closed and focusing on the cave.

"No, where are we going?" Draco asked in a biting hiss. "Why are we back in England?"

"Because it is part of my plan," Harry said slowly, looking around him. They had to leave or someone would see them, it was only a matter of time.

"What is your plan then?" Draco asked, irritated.

"I'll tell you once we get to the caves," Harry replied.

"The caves?!" Draco retorted, eyes wide. "Why the hell are we staying in a _cave?_"

"Because that's the most abandoned place I can think of. The only way that Titus would be able to find us is if he followed us here, which is why we should be leaving right now instead of talking."

"But a cave?" Draco repeated. Harry was about to reply when he heard a rustling sound coming from behind them. It could have been the sound of some debris being moved in the wind, but there was no use to risking it and finding out. At the same time, another noise came from further on shore.

"Do you see something down there?" a voice hollered, carrying with it a large beam of light, possibly a flashlight.

"Hey! Whoever you are! We're the police. Get up here so we can see you!" another voice shouted.

"We need to leave," Harry whispered harshly. "Just trust me." Draco's gaze turned on him. Again, the rustling from before sounded much closer, and Harry was about at the end of his wits. Almost about to just grab the blonde, he found a pale hand squeezing his. Not wasting anymore time, Harry apparated them out of there, although there was a glimpse of something from the source of the rustling, a large darkened figure. They were gone before he could make any sort of identification.

--

I must walk with light feet. Light feet, light feet, light feet, tiptoeing through the alleyways. One of the best parts of my games is doing it silently, though sometimes it is best when they think they hear me, but I trick them. Tricking them is one of my favorite games. When I trick them, they usually scream so loud I can hear their vocal chords ripping to shreds, as if I am performing magic on them. The fear is a stench about them which I sip at like an aged wine. I miss my tricks, but then I got caught by one of them that got away. It bit me very hard, and that was not usually a problem for I am much better than it but it surprised me. But it ran away and I got caught. It wasn't for very long though, because it was then that I heard the sound of him.

The sweet, heavenly sound of him coming ever so much closer to me I could practically taste the distance shortening. This time, instead of the taste of wine, he was as deliciously necessary as bread or water, what I needed to live and carry on. Unfortunately, when I finally saw him, he did not fall prey to my allure. I continued to try grasping for him to come to me, but he wouldn't budge. Rather rude, I thought, to not come to me when I beckoned. I did manage to hear the sound of the others in the cells around me banging their heads against the wall though, which is always fun. I wondered whose skull would crack first.

And he kept asking me questions, but I didn't want to answer them. I wanted him there, right there, but as quickly as he came he left. It was from that point that all I could feel was pure agony. It hurt me so much; it did, making my very blood feel like poison within me. I needed to escape, after all I had humored them for long enough that I should set myself free anyway.

It didn't take much, only a small bit of waiting.

I could smell one of the guards was not particularly alert, for reasons I didn't care to ask. I easily got him to open the doors for me and I preceded my escape with ease. The only problem was when I passed a certain door and could feel his aura radiating out to me. "Soon," I told my precious, "I'll have you soon." Then I escaped. I didn't realize how soon I would find him again.

--

The cave was as Harry remembered it: dark and creepy. Still, it was better than having his heart ripped to pieces again, and this time he'd be ready for an encounter with the veela. There were not many places that the creature could hide in here that he would have clear sight to Harry without the auror seeing him as well. He hoped this would mean the end of all the lunacy soon.

Seeing that the two travelers and their belongings were all here and accounted for, Harry began casting detection spells around the cave to make sure all of the dark magic was eradicated from when he'd last been here with Dumbledore. Although the eeriness was still at full peak, it wasn't the evil place it once had been, so Harry relaxed as a reward for the success of his plan. He didn't anticipate any other problems until Draco spoke up.

"So what are we going to do here in a cave?" Draco asked in a clipped tone.

"Hide," Harry replied easily.

"Just hide?" Draco continued, looking around and brushing his fingers against the weathered rock inside of the cave.

Harry found a place to sit on a smooth rock elevated from the floor by other large boulders. From the bag he was holding with the food rations inside, he pulled out two sandwiches. "Come here and eat, Malfoy."

Looking up, Harry saw Draco standing still at the mouth of the cave. Face hidden from Harry, he wondered what the other was looking at. When the blonde turned around, he was obviously upset. "What is it, Malfoy?"

"What is it?" Draco asked, incredulously. "Don't you realize we're basically trapped here until…until he comes to get us?"

"He won't come to get us if you come deeper into the cave," Harry reminded. "Anyway, there are many passageways through this cave. If he comes here, we can hide in there."

"You want to know why things are called caves, Potter?" Draco continued, getting slightly flushed. "There's only one way out. Once we go inside of the caves fully, he'll find us."

"That's not true," Harry replied, taking a bite out of his sandwich. "There are other openings."

"Well do you know where they are?" the other questioned. Draco had him there.

"No, not exactly, but let's worry about that when it happens," Harry responded. With Draco's attention on him, he threw the sandwich so that the blonde might catch it. They spent the rest of the day in silence, except for the occasional quip or remark. Some of the time was spent sleeping but most of it was simply spent thinking.

Harry found himself fiddling with his wand at a constant rate a few hours in. He knew that Montague was going to find them. It was only a matter of time before he come into the cave, but he also knew that the villain was not a wizard. Therefore, Montague was only allowed use of his wandless magic, since wands were useless to anyone of another species. Then again, he'd managed to kill many wizards, and elude the guards at Azkaban without use of a wand at all. But Harry had battled worse; he only hoped his skills remained with him as they had when fighting fiends like Voldemort. While he still prided himself having never killed a being directly, he didn't find himself being above such a thing anymore. Harry had killed, however directly it was, and that was what truly counted. Just because the words never came out of his mouth before did not mean he was innocent.

Draco must have noticed where his attention had been because he said, "Do you plan on killing him?" Harry looked up sharply and saw the blonde looking at him with an indescribable look on his face. Not seeing a reason to lie, Harry nodded his head. The silence that followed was taut with something Harry couldn't place, but eventually the other shrugged. "It's for the best." Again, the auror nodded and he thought silence would take reign yet again, but was surprised when the blonde walked over to him and sat down. He was still very tense and Harry didn't know exactly what was wrong, but didn't want to push in case the other clammed up completely. He waited until Draco finally spoke.

"I never wanted to leave you," he whispered. Well, that wasn't what Harry expected.

"What?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.

"I…I didn't want to leave you, Harry," the blonde reiterated, apparently finding his shoes fascinating. With a heaving sigh, Draco bent over and grabbed his head with trembling hands. "Gods, the last thing I ever wanted to do was leave you. You know how long it took me for you to figure out how much I wanted you? It felt like forever and…and then you were finally." Harry was getting a bit disorientated out by this turn of events, especially when the blonde looked up with tears in his eyes. "God you were so dense!" he nearly sobbed.

"Draco, I—"

"No! My turn to speak, not yours," Draco said, wiping his face. "At first it was like winning a prize, I admit. I finally got you to see past your stupid Slytherin prejudice, even if it was just because I was a warm body to fuck for the night. But then…it became more than that. I wanted you to not just see me as a fuck buddy or just as your partner at the Ministry. I wanted you to want me just as badly as I wanted you. Sometimes, I still smile to think that once I broke through that hardened shell, having you fall in love with me was much easier once I admitted it to myself that I felt the same."

Harry again tried to speak but found himself silenced by a distinct frog in his throat. Draco continued anyway. "But…but then it all went wrong and I knew that if I stayed you were going to…I had to leave you." Draco's breath was catching rather violently as he got deeper and deeper into his feelings (which was something Harry was definitely not used to), "And when I saw you in your office with so much pain. I caused that pain didn't I? I mean, I know I did, and I did a fucking good job making that heart break. I just…I wasn't anticipating having to see the damaged I left on the one I love." With that, Draco seemed to lose all wind and curled into himself. It was in that silence that Harry softly asked.

"The one you love?" Harry asked, totally confused and feeling, for the first time in a long time, a beam of hope that was too tempting to ignore. Draco looked up sharply, alarmed.

"What?"

"You said the one you love," Harry reminded. Again, a brief bout of quiet took over before Draco shook his head.

"Loved, I meant loved," he said, but Harry knew that he hadn't and he wasn't letting the blonde get away with it.

"You still love me, Draco?" he asked. "Then why the hell did you leave?"

"Please," Draco sighed. "Please stop asking that question."

"I only ask it because you won't answer it."

"I can't."

"Why can't you answer this one question? Why are you being an enigma about everything?"

"Because I am so tired of seeing this thing I've created from you," Draco snapped, getting up. Harry quickly followed suit. "I didn't know how much this thing meant to you, and I know that if I told you why I left it would completely break any chance of us being together again." Harry was struck mute by that. "What I think is funny is that, for an auror, you're missing a rather important question." Slowly, Draco began walking towards him with a glint in his eye that Harry distantly remembered if the stirring in his nether-regions had anything to say about that.

Harry cleared his throat. "What would that question be?" Draco had moved closer until they were face to face. Softly, a hand was rested upon his cheek that was pale and cool and so much from the ghosts of memory.

"Why did I come back?" and with that Draco kissed him.

Harry was so surprised by this sudden change that he was left rather immobile for a moment. That moment was long enough for Draco to reach his tongue inside Harry's mouth to explore. Harry couldn't help but react and kiss back. It felt like coming back home after a long, arduous battle, and Harry found he couldn't stop himself from wanting more. Before long Harry was pushing Draco against a rocky wall. Both were doing their best to get their tongues down the other's throats. Harry eventually pulled away from the kiss that left them both panting and with swollen lips.

"So," Harry huskily began, "why did you come back?"

A voice from behind them answered "Because he is a very bad boy who deserves to be punished." Quickly, Harry turned with his wand out and ready, but not before he could feel the wrenching pain of the Heart-Breaking curse hit him full force. With a cry he fell to the ground. Everything seemed so pointless and bleak except for, again, this beautiful radiant light that glimmered right in front of him. If he could only touch it, Harry thought, but as he reached for it something was holding him back, whispering in his ear.

"There's no point," he moaned to the voice, to the warm arms holding him back. "I need this."

"No you don't," the other voice replied holding him firm. "Fight this, Harry, come on."

The voice was so familiar and so wonderful, that Harry tried to do what the voice said but it was so much harder than anything had ever felt. It would all be over if he just went towards the light.  
"Harry, please don't go. He'll take me away if you go to him, Harry."

The light seemed to be growing stronger, trying to grab him with its rays. But the voice was telling him he was needed. Harry never was one to abandon someone who needed him, it just wasn't on. He began fighting back. "Yes, Harry, come on now."

With a hard smack into the rock, he felt the pain leave a roaring ache that made him cry out. He opened his eyes to see Draco kneeling over him, but not looking at him. Instead he was looking at something in front of them.

"You see? You can't win that easily, Titus," Draco sneered at the other. Fighting the weariness the curse had left him with, Harry turned his head and saw that what had once been the light was the very veela they had been waiting for.  
"Hello, Harry Potter," the veela cooed. "What a pleasure to finally meet. Too bad I will have to kill you."

"Don't you touch him, Titus," Draco warned, his arms around Harry tightening. "Leave him alone."

"I'm sorry, precious, but I simply cannot do that. You know this," the veela said as if to placate the blonde. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit nauseous. "And don't act as if you're protecting him either. After all, you are the reason he will have to die today."

Finally, Harry managed to speak up. "What is going on?" he asked, sitting up with minimal help from Draco.

Montague looked at him for a moment as if he were crazy. Then he suddenly laughed; it was quite an irritating, screechy sound.

"How could I forget?! You know, Draco, sometimes you're so cryptic that you end up hurting the people you want to protect. After all, I'm sure if Harry knew about us…well he probably wouldn't have fallen for your ruse actually. Oh, you really are a smart one aren't you, Draco? That's why you're my precious. You're such a smart little wizard and after you're punished I will make sure you are rewarded for your cleverness, pet!"

"Just tell him!" Draco shouted back, looking away from both of them.

"Draco?" Harry asked, confused as to what was going on. The blonde remained silent, Harry reached out to touch him, but the other got up and stormed away to look elsewhere.

"Oh poor, little precious," Montague sighed. "He always thinks that it's alright to walk all over people, he does. Even me, but I know he knows better."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, getting very irritated very quickly. With a stumble, he managed to stand. Holding out his wand at Titus he snapped, "One of you tell me what's going on!"

"Oh, Harry Potter, I would have thought you guessed by now, but I forgot that sometimes you humans are very dense," Titus tried to placate. With a shout of pent up aggression, Harry shouted a curse that bound the veela. Surprisingly the creature went down without much of a fight. Harry hurried to stand over the creature before kneeling down and shoving the wand into his neck in frustration. "Are you going to kill me, Harry Potter?" the other asked in apparent glee. "Oh this is a very funny turn of events, is it not precious?"

"Yes, I will kill you. You deserve to be killed, after murdering all those people and torturing Draco," Harry growled. The veela's eyes widened in surprise.

"Torture?" the veela asked. "Is that what he said it was?" The veela squirmed at an alarming speed, although he was unable to remove himself from the binds Harry set. "Precious that's not true is it?! Tell me, dearest, that isn't true!" Harry was utterly confused, and turned to look at Draco whose shoulders were trembling with some emotion that Harry couldn't see from the back of the blonde head.

"Not in the strictest sense of the word," Draco replied stiltedly. "Kill him, Harry. Do it now."

Harry was still bewildered but turned back to see the veela looking at the other with some sort of pain that had been vacant from his eyes before. "Draco, you don't mean that," Montague murmured, a tone Harry hardly thought he knew of before.

"I do," the blonde replied. "I mean it."

"But," the veela replied, "But then you will—"

"Yes I know!" Draco barked. "Harry, hurry up and kill the bastard already!"

"What will happen, Draco?" Harry asked. The blonde stayed silent. The veela answered for him.

"He will die." Harry's wand faltered a moment as his eyes whipped back to Montague.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know how much you've learned about veelas, Harry Potter," the creature began. "But there is such a thing as a bond between a veela and their mate. These bonds can inspire power and greatness beyond the dreams of those who try to fight on their own. But it also comes with a price. When one dies, the other is sure to follow."

Then Harry heard the dreaded words.

"Draco is my mate."


	10. Chapter Nine

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** HD Slash, Flashback, slight humor...vagueness...

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** Hello Beautiful People. This is, as mentioned above, a flashback. Although this really isn't progressing the plot, I know, I'm going to be a little selfish since I've wanted to write this since I thought of the idea for this story. So...yes. This chapter is absolute crap grammatically, for which I am truly sorry. Otherwise, reviewing makes me happy, so please do yay!

With that said:

**Being the Other Man  
Chapter Nine**

_Approximately five-and-a-half years earlier…_

Draco was genuinely, aggressively pissed off at the world. Actually, in most cases he was generally pissed off at the world, for the obvious reason that it sucked. But today there were far too many shitty things happening all at once for just general resentment. This time it was personal.

About four weeks previous, Harry and he had a rather vicious row that had reduced itself to derogatory remarks towards each of their familial matriarchs respectively (though Draco did suppose telling Harry to get over his oedipal complex and fuck the youngest, female Weasley was a bit much) that resulted in his, Draco's, sleeping on the couch for the night. It also inspired the next day—which was to begin the downhill progression towards the worst day ever—to begin by Draco being late for work. The only reason he woke up at all was because of the light glaring into the living room with a tenacity of a bull. After practically killing himself going break-neck speeds to get ready, he encountered a flurry of activity when he reached the Ministry. On the positive side, it made everyone far too busy to notice he was late, but it also managed to create a rather massive headache what with all the people rushing about screaming different things. Then, the second inciting incident to the climax of the very shitty day to come was finding out an interesting bit of information.

"What do you mean Harry went after Montague by himself?!" Draco shouted at Shacklebolt who looked like he'd want anything other than to be dealing with an irritated boyfriend/auror partner (then again considering who it was, there probably wasn't much he wanted to do in any case except to whisper profanities and death threats under his breath).

"I mean," Kingsley slowly began, "That Harry went after the veela, Titus Montague, by himself—alone." Then the man stood up and placed his hands firmly on his desk. "I didn't send him out there, Malfoy, he just went. He said he got a lead on something and we only found out about it when he reported back to us on his location and to prepare backup just in case."

"Then let's back him up!" Draco replied, slamming his hands on the desk, upending a rather elaborate paperweight.

"We can't. Currently, Montague doesn't know that Potter's there. If we apparate to him we'll alert the veela of his position and I'm not going to risk one of my auror's lives just because he was stupid enough to go in there without backup to start with." When Shacklebolt finished his head was glistening in sweat and Draco was no closer to getting what he wanted. Instead, he slammed the desk again—the paperweight tipping into the rubbish bin—and stormed out of the office.

It was hours before another bout of ruckus was made. Harry came back with the veela in tow. Although it was his case, Draco didn't bother making sure the criminal was being taken care of properly. He'd check on that later. Instead, he went to the medical wing where Harry was being treated. Storming in, he saw his messy-haired partner sitting upright on a cot, wincing as his skin was being stitched together. Harry looked up at the sound of the blonde storming towards him. "Hullo, Draco," he said quietly.

"Don't you 'Hullo Draco' me!" Draco replied, imitating Harry with a high pitched voice.

"Do I really sound like that?" Harry responded.

"Oh, so now you're mister funny man, yeah?" Draco replied his voice dripping with outraged sarcasm. "You just, you know, went after a high-profile criminal without any back up or even managing to wake me up this morning and now you're just rolling out with all the jokes aren't you?!"

"Well, I didn't exactly feel like talking to you this morning, so I didn't bother waking you up for work. Maybe you should get an alarm clock instead of relying on me to wake you up all the time!" Harry retorted.

"Why didn't you fire-call or anything? I'm you're partner for Merlin's sake! In…," Draco took a deep breath to calm down. "In both senses of the word, I'm your partner, Harry. And we're supposed to rely on each other to back one another up. We're also supposed to trust the other person to help them when they need it."

"Well, I got him, didn't I?" Harry replied. "And look, an hour in here and I'll be as good as new."

"That's not the point, Harry," Draco said, beginning to lose steam. "Why do you keep doing stuff like this? You're not the only one here, you know. That's what a partner is for." Both men remained quiet as they sat there.

"You were worried about me?" Harry asked in a soft voice that Draco could swear made him sound like the nervous, innocent boy who lived under the cupboard. It made his heart melt a little inside, but outwardly he biffed the dense man on the back of the head.

"Of course I was, idiot," Draco sneered. "I fucking hate when you do that."

"I know," Harry replied solemnly. "I just didn't want to lose the lead."

"I know," Draco said with a sigh, patting the man on his knee, "And I know that you're just trying to do you're job, but let me do mine as well?"

Over all that day ended up alright. So it wasn't necessarily that day that was so terrible, but that didn't stop the doom looming ahead from…well, looming. When he began conducting interviews with Montague about a week later, the bad times truly began. The first time he tried to interrogate the veela, he just stared at Draco with a vacant expression that really gave Draco the willies and made him rather glad that there were thick, metal bars between them. It was a little more than a week later that communication was initiated by Titus instead.

"Hello, precious," the veela cooed. Thinking the murderous nutjob was trying to insult him, Draco let his coldness shine through while holding his clipboard tightly in his grip.

"Nice to hear your voice, Montague," Draco replied, dead-pan. The veela winced.

"Don't call me that," was the hissed reply. "You must call me by my name, my true name."

Not sure where this was heading, Draco decided to hop on the train for a moment. "Right …Titus then?" the veela relaxed and nodded. "Titus, I have a few questions to ask you, and it'd be in your best interest to answer them since I know you're not mute like you've been pretending to be for the past few interrogations."

"Are these the questions about all the men I've killed?" the veela frankly asked. With only a surprised blink, Draco nodded. "Do we really have to go through all of this again? I don't feel like answering anymore."

"You haven't answered any!" Draco replied, a stab of irritation making him shout.

"Temper, temper, my…I like that fire within you, precious," Titus replied, a grin gleaming with white teeth pushing apart his perfect lips.

"Well then if you're not going to cooperate then I'll leave," Draco replied, beginning to make his way to the exit. He was stopped by a guttural scream coming from the veela.

"Don't leave me," the creature begged.

"Why?" Draco asked.

"Because I need you, precious, please stay with me," the other moaned, reaching out to Draco with a perfect, alabaster hand. Draco tugged his robes away from the veela with disgust but stayed.

"Then you'll have to start answering my questions," Draco said, feeling like he was going in circles with this thing.

"Yes, yes alright precious. Please stay, ask your questions," the other said eagerly.

Draco cleared his throat and proceeded. "Right then, we currently have documented that you've successfully maimed and killed," he took a brief look back at his notes, "…thirty-six young men in the past six months."

"Thirty-six? Oh no, that number is definitely wrong," Titus tutted, inching closer to the bars.  
"It is?" Draco asked, disbelieving. Although, that number was certainly a bit high…  
"Most certainly, that isn't nearly half the number of men I've had the…pleasure to meet."

"Half?!" Draco replied (voice cracking in only the manliest sort of way.) "You mean you've killed over seventy men in England?!"

"Oh, in _England!_" the veela nodded, delightfully enlightened to what the mistake had been. "Oh no, if this is just about England then I suppose thirty-six sounds about right."

"You…where else have you murdered people?" Draco asked, bewildered. The veela leaned towards him with a wicked gleam in his eye. If he wasn't a murderous psychopath, Draco might have thought he was being playful.

"Have you ever been to Germany?" the creature asked. The doubtful look in Draco's eyes caused the veel to continue with a wicked grin and his lips smacking together in delight. "They really are the perfect specimens, are they not?"

"Alright, that's enough," Draco said, viciously jotting down something on the file to look into the other killings he performed in different countries.

"Of course, precious," the veela replied, his voice like silk. Draco glared.

"It'd be in your best interest to stop that," he said, coldly. The other put his hands up in mock surrender. As Draco was about to begin another question, the veela interrupted.

"What is your name?" the creature asked.

Surprised only for a brief second by the change of subject, Draco looked up suspiciously then said, "I am Auror Malfoy." The veela shook his head. "What? That's my name."

"No, no," the veela said standing upright and walking towards the bars, "Your real name."

"I don't see how that is any of your business," Draco replied, ready to say the question he was about to ask before.  
"I won't answer your questions until you tell me," Montague said with a sigh, leaning against the cold, stone walls. His skin glistened in his surroundings, as if gaining some sort of power to itself. It practically glowed, and it made Draco's eyes begin to wander the skin. For all the evil this thing was, he was definitely beautiful, as all veela are. However, there was an edge about him that made something within Draco begin to shift. Slowly, the auror replied, "Draco."

"What was that?" the veela asked.

"My name is Draco," the blonde said. The veela stood still for a moment and reached out through the bars, but found his hand being shocked back with a yelp. That was enough to snap Draco out of whatever he had been slipping into, and he cleared his throat embarrassingly. "I think that is enough questioning for today," he spoke with a slight tremor in his voice.

The veela looked extremely perplexed, "But I thought you were resistant to my allure. In fact, most of the people who come here are." However, when he looked up, his precious had gone.

Draco sped out of there quickly. He knew he should say something about the allure shield wearing down, but he felt far too humiliated. After all, how would he be able to tell them without confessing that he'd been brainlessly ogling the veela like a fool? No, someone else would find out soon enough and it would all be smashing.

Except that it wasn't smashing because mere days later the bastard escaped from Azkaban. If the Ministry had been a hullabaloo when the veela was captured, it was pure chaos when he escaped. Paper airplanes were taking suicidal plunges in order to get to the proper desks, people were flailing their arms about like headless chickens, and Shacklebolt had a rather volatile headache which resulted in many people getting a door to the face as he worked with Harry and Draco to figure out the next route of action.

Draco was worried though, because although no one else knew how the veela escaped, he did. Was it his fault for not telling anyone that the wards were weakening? Well, truthfully, it wasn't because they should have been updating those every day. Still, a rather Gryffindor sentiment began to grip him—guilt. He didn't quite understand what the big deal about it was, because for Draco it hurt like a bitch. This feeling made him strive to get this veela menace and take him down for good; he became ten times more vicious on this case than he had been.

His new obsession was very apparant to people around him, especially Harry. His partner would ask him often to take a short break, go for a walk, to eat something for Christ's sake, but Draco would have none of it. He had an extremely bad feeling about this entire situation and he was going to amend it as speedily and efficiently as possible. He was about to look over some maps again when he got home, but was halted a moment when a hand was put on his shoulder. The hand was warm and comforting and brought the scent of pine trees and spring with it, "Hi, Harry."

"Draco, please come to bed?" the man asked, massaging the tense muscles underneath his fingers. "I've missed you," he murmured, the mussed head bending down to his level. A small shiver raced down Draco's back.

"I've missed you too," he replied, his voice low and serene as another hand began massaging his other shoulder.

"Come to bed?" the other repeated, littering the blonde's neck with untraceable kisses. The blonde felt a low groan emit from his lips as the comforting hands moved a little further down his back. He slowly opened his eyes to look up at the other, who was looking back at him with such caring eyes. Slowly, he nodded and allowed the other to pull him up and they both began their trek to bed where they had a far gentler and soothing lovemaking than they had ever tried to have before. Draco felt as if he were in heaven, and didn't realize how tense he had been up to this point. When they had finished, Harry turned over to face Draco and the blonde allowed himself to be spooned. He was beginning to succumb to slumber when he could feel the other tense up.

"What is it?" he asked.

"What has you working so hard on this case?" Harry asked, distracting fingers tracing Draco's abs. "I mean, you've always worked hard but…never quite as much as on this one."

"No reason," Draco replied a little too quickly. He took a deep breath then replied, "It just pisses me off that the bastard escaped, you know?"

"Yeah…me too," the other replied. He didn't sound wholly convinced, but he also didn't carry the conversation any further as Draco could feel the other fall to sleep against his shoulder. He found himself drifting off as well.

It was shortly after that he began feeling the most peculiar sensation. There was a prickling on the back of his neck that wouldn't go away, as if someone were watching him. Opening his eyes, Draco scanned the room to see and sensed no one there. Still, the feeling just would not leave. As gently as possible, he got out of bed. Draco went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face and neck, but he found the sensation growing stronger, extending to his cheeks and fingers. The tingling started to feel like a burn, but the water didn't help. In the kitchen, Draco found no comfort in putting ice cubes on his fingertips or on his face. A ringing began throbbing in his ear, getting louder quickly. This noise followed him out of the kitchen and out the front door that he stumbled through.

A fair distance away, he saw a figure standing outside of their house and somehow Draco knew that the figure would be the answer to his relief. As he began to walk towards it, the figure began walking away. With a growl, Draco began to chase after the silhouette, moving as fast as he could. Soon, he found himself in a back alley that held little in way of identification. His senses were going haywire: the tingling extended to his entire arms and feet, his eyes seemed to be experiencing tunnel vision, taste and smell were filled with stench (though that could have very well been the sewers nearby), and the ringing was now roaring in his ears. Draco found himself kneeling on the ground, whimpering in this onslaught of unexplained pain.

Suddenly, the figure was back into view and he could feel himself practically cry as the other walked towards him, making all of these sensations increase tenfold. When the shadow was upon him, he heard a voice whisper, "Do you want these pains removed from you, precious?" Uncaring of who the other was, he nodded his head yes, crying out at the increase of agony it caused. The figure squatted down to cup Draco's cheek, and he could feel a strange relief in the spot the shadow directly touched. "Don't you see that you are mine, Draco? And you will always be?" Draco whimpered into the man's hand. "I'm the only one who can help you, precious. Do you give yourself to me?"

Somewhere deep inside him, Draco knew that something was going terribly wrong. However, there was nothing forthcoming as to what, since all of his senses were being strung in every direction. When he didn't answer, the pain increased tenfold and Draco thought that his ears may fall off his head and his eyes could barely make out a figure before him. It was strange that through all this, the shadow's voice was clear in his head. "Come now, darling, let me release you from your pain? Submit to me." It did not take much for the pain-addled blonde to slightly incline his head, and suddenly the pain was gone. He looked around to find many strange things. One, he was in a room with a very large bed that he now rested upon. There were many windows letting in glorious moonlight that shone upon the bed to reveal that he was quite naked. Above him, Draco saw the most beautiful face he'd ever seen shining back at him in triumph and felt his entire world crumbling into the ruin that it would soon become.

"Hello, precious," Montague whispered. "_You are mine."_


	11. Chapter Ten

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** Umm...surprises? Cussing. Uh...mention of sexual behavior

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** Hello Beautiful People. So it took me a while but I have put forth another chapter. This chapter is one hundred percent, without a doubt, **not editted.** Literally, I finished the chapter and then went to post it. I'm trying to finish this before I go off to school, and it is drawing to a close. So, even if it is illegible, I hope you enjoy haha.

With that said:

**Being the Other Man  
Chapter Ten**

_Back to where we were (a very good place to continue a story…)_

The silence in the cave was only interrupted by the sound of crashing waves. Harry could barely hear past the pulse pounding in his ears. The accursed words, "Draco is my mate" repeated over and over in Harry's head as everything began to click.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Montague sneered. He was unable to free himself from the bindings around him, but still managed to gain much of his poise and grace back. "When the thing you most fear is the only thing that makes sense."

"Shut up!" Draco barked, to which the veela swiftly obeyed. The roaring began to quiet as Harry looked up at Draco who looked anything but calm. Harry didn't have to ask, because he knew.

"He's…he's telling the truth isn't he?" he asked, his voice suddenly hoarse. The terse nod from the blonde was all Harry's dreams needed to shatter. There it was then. Any chances…they were apparently not even meant to be through fate. Instead, Draco was meant to be with a veela, which was apparently one of the greatest honors through man-kind.

Funny, Harry didn't feel much like congratulating him.

"Harry," Draco began, but was interrupted by a hand raised to stop him.

"So, I can't kill you then?" Harry asked the veela. The veela remained silent until Draco gave him permission to speak again.

"Not unless you want to kill Draco as well," Montague replied, for once without the manic glint in his eyes but an abstract form of pity. "And you couldn't kill Draco even if you had to." As much as Harry wanted to argue, he knew that much was true.

"But how did this happen?" Harry asked, confused. "When did you two…?"

"My beloved fell into my arms five years ago," the veela whispered, reveling in remembered delight.

Five years ago…

"_Do you love him?" Harry asked, cursing his voice for cracking. Draco sighed._

"_It's complicated." _

It had happened while they were dating. This…twist of fate had been the very reason for his break up. Even then, he hadn't been Draco's one and only. Suddenly Harry felt very sick—and pissed the _fuck_ off!

However, before he could even begin to vocalize his turmoil, Draco turned on Montague. "Don't you fucking _lie_, Titus," Draco spat. "I did not fall into your arms at all, unless you meant that I was cursed to fall there!"

"Well, yes, the bond of a veela is kind of like a curse…"

"No, you pile of shit! You cursed me, _with your wand_, to 'fall into your arms'. Had I been semi-conscious you would have been rotting away in Azkaban again!" Harry was surprised that Titus seemed hurt, but for the most part bored.

"Yes, yes, I know you tell me this all the time," Titus moaned. "But I knew it was the only way to forge the bond!"

"Wait, aren't veela supposed to be loving towards their mate?" Harry interrupted. "Why would you curse him if you loved him?"

Both the veela and Draco looked back at Harry as if he had four heads.

"Well, I _am_ evil," Montague said slowly.

"Oh, right," Harry said, suddenly remembering.

"And I do love him, with all of my heart," the veela continued, looking forlorn. "So I just kept him under my spell in order to make sure that we were able to bond. After that, he seemed under the impression that he had to set everything right which was not a sentiment that I truly understood, but…"

"That's when you broke up with me," Harry murmured. Draco slowly nodded.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Draco whispered.

"But you came back, how did you…?" Harry's mind was all jumbled.

"Well, when he came back to me, he threatened to kill me you see," Montague said. "I told him that he would die in the process but that he didn't care, and well I couldn't have that so I managed to keep him under my allure for three glorious years. But, somehow—probably due to how strong my mate is—he broke through. Then he began running. I chased him all over the world, you know, but could never quite catch him. Then…he returned to England."

"And found me," Harry said. He glanced at Draco who was looking determinedly down at his feet.

"How did you find us once we left the country?" he asked. "You shouldn't have been able to detect us from across the Atlantic."

"Draco isn't the only one that has his mate," the veela said with a laugh. "Yes, it was unfortunately true that I could not track him from across the Atlantic when he ran away from me. But it was not too hard to find the man who treasures you nearly as much as I treasure Draco, Mr. Potter. Too bad I had to kill him." Harry and Draco looked at each other doubtfully, wondering who on earth he could be talking about. "Oh please, do I have to spell it out for you?" the veela exasperatedly asked.

"English would be nice," Harry chimed in.

"The sparkly fellow," Montague replied.

Both Draco and Harry asked in alarm, "SPITZ?"

"Present!" said a rather recognizable, slightly squeaky voice from outside of the cave. Draco's wand shot out and pointed in the sound's direction when a small, pale hand reached over the ledge and grabbed on to the cave floor. Following it came another arm with multicolored glitter and feathers. A few more lifts up and standing before them was Gerald Spitz, quite alive in fact.

"Why did you say I was dead?" Gerald asked the veela, sounding rather hurt. The veela shrugged.

"You were late. I improvised."

"Oh, okay," with Harry very distracted and shocked, Gerald quickly disarmed Harry and Draco then untied Montague with a few swift swishes of his wand. "I suppose that's alright."

"Alright?" Harry asked, the new horror of the situation dawning on him. "How in hell is this alright? What's going on, Gerald?"

"What do you mean what's going on? I'm finally getting what I deserve!" Gerald exclaimed back.

"Gerald, untie me right now," Harry said slowly.

"Later, love, when we begin our lives together!" Gerald said, glee sparkling in his eyes, "First, we must explain. Right, Montague?"

"Indeed, glitter-boy, although I already told Potter that Draco was mine," Montague said thoughtfully.

"Oh, really?" Gerald asked, frowning a bit. "Shame I missed it."

"Gerald, how could you do this?" Harry asked in a growl.

"How could I?" he asked incredulously, "How could I not, Harry? You always ignored me even after our magical night together. Every advance I made was shot down. Every costume I wore for you was ridiculed. And I never got the support from my coworkers that I needed to cope! Shacklebolt always made me stay late to vacuum the feathers, you know? Every night, it was torture!"

"You could have just not dressed like a twit," Draco sneered.

"I am _not_ a twit!" Gerald snapped, raising his wand to the blonde. The immediate growling from both Titus and Harry made him put it back to his side, and he continued.

"But," he now turned back to Harry, starry-eyed, "But even through all of that you were kind to me. Although you rejected my repeated offers of sex, blowjobs, handjobs, spooning, forking…"

"We get the picture," Draco snapped. Gerald looked ruffled again for a mere moment.

"But you'd always talk to me so tenderly, and really…Harry…" Spitz bent down and lifted Harry's chin with his wand, "it just pissed me the fuck off."

"So you turned _evil_?" Harry asked, aghast.

"Well, yes. I found a pitifully gorgeous man skulking around the Ministry, and I walked up to him, befriended him, and took him to coffee. Turned out the man was Montague and, I admit that I was a bit startled." Gerald giggled and then sighed. "But he told me how his mate had run off and he was trying to find him. When he told me who the mate was, I knew that you would be with him. It only took a little bit of wheedling until I found out where you were, and after a lovely bit of planning, here we are!"

"So what do you plan to do now?" Harry asked, feebly hoping some idea of what to do would pop into his head to get them out of this mess.  
"First, I will obliviate you. Montague will take Draco and I'll bring you back to the Ministry, claiming that I saved you from the terrible veela and then you'll love me without knowing that I stopped Malfoy from stealing you from me." Gerald said with joy.

"The one problem is," Draco said, standing up from his spot, arms freed from his ropes and wand in hand (Harry vaguely remembered Draco being outrageously good at casting wandless spells), "that Harry could never love you anyway." Draco cast a stupefy at Spitz and Montague. Then, he looked back at Harry for a brief moment and nodded, as if assuring himself of something. He hurried to Harry and untied him, getting his wand back to Harry.

"Thanks," Harry said, rubbing his wrists gently. He looked at the other men with disdain. "So should we send these two to the Ministry?"

"Not yet," Draco said. "You've got to do one more thing before then."

"What would that be?" Harry asked. At the silence, he turned to look at Draco and saw a look of fierce determination on his face.

"Kill him," he said, pointing at Montague.

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "But if I do then-,"

"Do it, Harry. He'll never stop," Draco sighed. "You have to do this, for the good of the Wizarding World."

"You know I seem to do a lot of things for them," Harry growled. "But you can't expect me to kill you!"

"No, I can't, but I know that you will," Draco said staring into Harry's eyes with such intensity it made his heart hurt. "Because otherwise Montague will continue killing people."

"I can't kill you, Draco," Harry bit out.

"Harry," Draco said with the weariness of a much older age than he. "Can I admit something?" Harry nodded. "To live in a world where I have to be mated with the craziest, most evil veela ever imagined is a terrible place. It's dark and bloody and so suffocating that I can barely breathe." At that, the blonde took a very deep breath. "But to live in that world knowing that I once had you is pure agony."

Harry bit his lip looking away. "Harry, I can't stand living like this any longer. To want you so much, but knowing that I can never have you has been tearing me apart since the day I left you five years ago. Please, kill him and take the pain away."

Harry stood there staring at the other man, who for the first time in Harry's entire life had his face covered in tear tracks. His heart already beginning to tear into pieces, Harry slowly nodded.

"Thank you, Harry," Draco whispered.

"What can I say?" Harry said, his voice unmistakably bleak. "For the Wizarding World."

Without letting himself have time to try to squirm out of this, Harry turned sharply to Montague and shouted "_Avada Kedevra!"_

He heard the breath rush out of Montague like a flame blown out by a forceful wind.

Harry only had to wait a moment for the telltale thump of Draco's body hitting the floor. Draco lay on the floor where he'd once stood.

Harry didn't know what to do with himself. His body was coiled up like a tight string and his heart felt as though it'd been ripped to shreds, and he fell to his knees. He stayed there, knowing that he was now surrounded by one glittery auror and two dead blondes, but not caring. Harry stared at his wand for the longest of times before looking over at Draco's limp body. Vision funneling, he could hear a sound ringing in his ears—which turned out to be his own screams. Slowly he crawled to the body, and wrapped his arms around the pale flesh that had once held the soul of one who had caused great torment and great love.

"Draco, I'm so sorry," he moaned. He continued shaking and groaning until his voice was sore. Still he held the body, cradled in his arms so tightly that the slight movement he felt could have easily been his own twitching arms. Still, it made him open his eyes against the tears and look down slowly, as if he were in a slow-motion film. "Draco?"

Suddenly, there was a rasping breath that lifted the blonde's chest a centimeter and let it fall. Rushing, Harry put his ear to the man's chest and fingers to his throat. A small, feeble pulse was under his fingertips. Not letting himself hesitate for a second, he took his and Draco's wand with him as he apparated to St. Mungo's.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** Explanations. Mentions of more inappropriate things. Uh...yes.

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** Hello Beautiful People. This is yet another uneditted chapter. Maybe I'll come back and fix everything later. I realize that now it's starting to look rushed, but there wasn't that much I had to explain left. If there are still things you want to know, let me know soon so i can try wrapping them up in the final chapter. I'd love to hear some reviews (since I'm a needy, needy little author, yes I is.)  
I guess this chapter came out so fast because this was what I was waiting to write since I began this thing. (Fun fact. This story was supposed to be a really short one-shot. Ha! And again I say Ha!)

With that said:

**Being the Other Man  
Chapter Eleven**

"Wait…what?"

Harry was staring at Hermione, eyes the size of saucers. His eyes had been in somewhat the same way for the past few days ever since he'd gotten word from one of the Mediwizards that Draco was going to live.

"Harry, how many times do I need to explain this?" Hermione asked, frustrated, her frizzy hair falling in her face as she shook her head.

"Once more please," Harry begged. Hermione heaved a sigh and lifted her head, eyes lancing through Harry's to make sure he was truly listening.

"It turns out that Lucius Malfoy wasn't as pureblooded as he wanted everyone to believe," she began. "Same goes with Narcissa. Usually the veela gene goes undetected in those who are the children of mixed species, as veela genes are naturally recessive. That is why veelas themselves are so rare, because once their blood is mixed with another species—wizard, for example—it is not as important that their mate is veela as well. However, if both parents possess the veela gene, then the likelihood of one being veela goes up. It's simple genetics really."

Harry spoke up. "So Draco…"

"Due to his parents both having the veela gene, he had enough of it to be considered a partial veela, since only some characteristics shined through. Because of that veela gene being more prevalent in him than in his parents, it was easier to pick out. So if a veela nearby were searching for their mate…"

"Montague," Harry clarified. Hermione nodded.

"Unfortunately, yes. Montague discovered, possibly through smell or some other sense, a familiarity between him and Malfoy that would allow him to finally bond. Therefore, their mating took place—in a highly illegal manner, of course—and what resulted was in their bond."

"But I killed Montague and Draco was supposed to die with him! He…he did die, but then he was breathing and," Harry was getting muddled in confusion again, but was snapped out of it when a newspaper 'thwapped' him in the back of the head.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Harry! If you would just listen before panicking you'd have gotten this by now!" Hermione impatiently scolded. Harry silently nodded and she continued after taking a deep breath and muttering the word 'patience' to herself.

"Technically a part of Draco did die," she explained. "His veela genes were eradicated as soon as Montague took his last breath. However, he is also part wizard, and with power that no one could really sneeze at."

"Which means?" Harry asked.

"It means that the wizard part of Draco wasn't bonded to the veela, Harry. So when the veela left him, the wizard stayed. It's true that he should have died once Montague did, but something must be keeping him here." Hermione said, her tone finally growing softer. Harry was looking down at his hands. "You should go and visit him, Harry." She was met with silence.

Although he was starting to understand what had actually happened, it didn't change what he'd done. "Hermione, I killed him." She began to speak, "No, Hermione!" Harry shouted. "Even if he isn't dead, he should be. I was too tired, too weak to think of anything else to do so I sacrificed him for the sake of the Wizarding world."

"Harry, you told me that he asked you to do it," Hermione reminded him.

"Since when have I ever done something he's asked me to do?" Harry laughed, shakily. "I could have figured out another way."

"Do you honestly think that Malfoy would have let you kill him if there were another way, Harry?" Hermione asked after a pause. "I mean, really. He was gone for five years dealing with this murderous nut job and even he knew that this was what had to be done! He isn't a Gryffindor, you know. Slytherins don't normally throw their lives away willy nilly."

At that, Harry did have to genuinely grin. "Yeah, you're right."

Hermione's face went soft again. "Harry, he really wants to see you. I think you owe it to him at least to talk to him about this. If you truly think that it'd be better if you didn't see each other, then you should tell him that."

Hermione left after that, leaving Harry with his thoughts. It took him another hour to sort himself out before making the journey to Draco's room. First, he made a stop at a snack machine to grab a roll of biscuits and a cup of coffee.

It was nice as far as hospital rooms went. The walls were wallpapered with teal birds that occasionally swooped around each other, making nests. Next to Draco's bed was a teal pleather chair that looked a little worn for wear, but comfortable enough. Harry tried to make his entrance as silent as possible, in case Draco was sleeping. Such was not the case as he heard in a tired but very much alive tone, "Harry."

Taking a deep breath, he looked up to see what had once been a corpse in his arms watching him with a careful gaze. Taking stock of what Harry was carrying, he murmured, "Biscuits and hot chocolate? I seem to remember there being some negative connotation to this."

Harry looked down at his arms. "Coffee, actually," he said. "I would have gotten you …do you want me to go and get you some?"

Draco wrinkled his nose. "No I'd rather not burn a hole through my stomach with that toxic waste they pawn off as coffee."  
Rather than retort, Harry shrugged before sitting down with his "meal." They sat in quiet, Harry taking an occasional bite out of a biscuit while Draco's eyes wandered to and from the biscuits to his face.

Eventually, Harry took a stab at conversation. "The weather's nice."

Draco's face took a turn for the melancholy, slowly, and he said, "I…yes, I guess it is. Warm?"

"For England," Harry said, amiably. Again a silence lulled over them.

"You can get it over with, you know," Draco said, so quiet Harry had to lean in to hear.

"What over with?" Harry asked.

"The break up," Draco said, with a sigh that sounded more tired than anything. "That's why you've finally come right?"

"What? Draco I," Harry began but the other was on a roll.

"I mean, I can't really blame you," Draco said. "After all of the terrible shit I put you through. And now, I," Draco bit his lip and stopped.

"You what?" Harry asked.

"Well, I'm not veela anymore, am I? I always wondered why people fawned after me the way they did. I thought it was just the power of presence." Draco snorted derisively. "Apparently it had more to do with blood than presence."

Vaguely, Harry did realize that something was different about Draco. There was always that untouchable glow around the blonde that made him seem like he was a million miles away even when they were practically touching. Right now, Draco seemed so…close. As if Harry could truly reach out and be able to hold the blonde in a way he would have thought impossible before.

Also there had been the luminescent come, which had been a big concern at the time.

"I'm just a wizard now, barely. Most of my magic was derived from my veela half so I'm going to have to learn how to manage my wizard magic properly. And…I know that you deserve more than me."

"Draco," Harry began but was again cut off.

"I mean, I thought it was a fluke when we first started going out. I thought that maybe you'd see the light and banish me away as soon as you figured out that I'd never be good enough. Now, I know that I'd be impossible to…"

"Draco Malfoy, would you please shut up!" Harry practically yelled. When the other was silent, Harry took a calming breath. "I've never known you to talk so down about yourself," he admitted.

"Yeah, well, I _was_ a veela. Not much you can say against that," Draco scathingly replied.

"Uh, I'm sorry. Did you ever meet Titus Montague? I think there's a few things about a veela that could turn me off really quick, namely eating their lovers." Harry snapped back.

"Hm, yes, well you've got me there, I guess," Draco sighed. "All I'm trying to say is this is all I have to give now, Harry. No veela good looks. Just…me."

The room was silent for a moment, as Draco's eyes went downcast. Slowly, Harry put his biscuits and coffee down and sat on the bed. Lifting Draco's chin, he waited until slate grey eyes met his own.

"Draco," he said softly. "All I want is just you."

"You can't mean that," Draco slowly replied.

"Yes I can," Harry replied. "And I do. I love you, Draco. Even through these horrible five years, I loved you. I thought that you wouldn't want me after what I'd done."

"Saved me, you mean? Yeah, I really hate you for that, Harry," Draco said, rolling his eyes with the sarcasm that Harry was suddenly so happy to see.

"Draco, I love you for you. I love you for your sarcasm. I love how you avoid the rules, hate most of the people that you meet, make fun of my hair, my glasses, my dancing."

"Really, Harry, you're making me blush," Draco deadpanned.

"But I also love how you always try to protect me," Harry ploughed forth. "I love how, even though you try to hide it, you're really just a big ol' softie. I love how you put up with all the people you don't like because you want to see me happy."

"So, I love you, Draco with and without your veela enhancers. Okay?" Harry finished.

The silence that followed was companionable until Draco said, "So are you going to kiss me or what?"

Harry, gladly, did as he was asked.


	13. Chapter Twelve: Epilogue

**Title:** Being the Other Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.

**Warning:** there's really nothing here that would need more warning than the previous chapters had so, hooray!

**Summary: **It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.

**Author's Notes:** Hello Beautiful People! I present to you the final chapter of Being the Other Man_._ It's taken many days and nights to finish, I know, but it is done. Again, this chapter is uneditted...for which I'm sorry. However, it is posted. I was unsure to label this as an epilogue or just as the final chapter...so I did both. Please, review and tell me what you thought.  
Furthermore, I want to thank all who reviewed, favorited, alerted themselves to, and read my story. Without you, I would be oh so woebegone.  
I adore you all.

With that said:

**Being the Other Man  
Chapter Twelve/ Epilogue**

_Sometimes Harry can't help but feel muddled._

"Get _down!"_ Draco hissed from behind, tackling Harry to the ground just as a string of red light whizzed above their heads.

"Draco we can't get him if we duck every time he shoots something!" Harry shouted back.

"You can't get him if you're shot, idiot!" Draco retorted.

"I won't get shot, Draco, I'm sort of trained at this. Remember? We went to classes and everything," Harry replied, his frustration rising above the boiling point. Ever since they'd come back to work three months ago, Draco had been anything but the partner he was before. Not in a way that he slacked or anything, actually it was rather the opposite.

"I'm not letting you get hurt," Draco growled at him, again forcing him down as a yellow bolt shot past them.

Harry just about had it really. At first, it had been endearing. Draco had been protective of him before, of course, but never so desperately. However, the endearing quality soon became suffocating, and Harry knew something had to be done.

"I'm not going to have this conversation here," Harry finally ground out, "but you have to let me _do my job_." With a burst of strength, Harry freed himself from Draco's arms and shot up from their hiding spot and within a few moments of dodging, blocking, and aiming their opponent was stupefied enough to be put in a body bind and apparated with them to the Ministry.

It was when they sat down to file the paperwork such a capture required that Harry decided they needed to fix whatever was going on.

"Draco," he began, putting his quill down and waiting for the other to look up at him. It took a great deal of patience, but eventually the other slowed in his furious writing to glance up at Harry.

"What?" the blonde snapped.

Harry asked, "What's going on?"

"Surely, Harry, I thought you knew what filing was. After all, it is a part of your job that you love so much isn't it?" Draco said, sneering slightly.

"Draco, you know damned well that's not what I'm talking about," Harry barked back. "Why are you being such a prick?"

Instead of the expected scathing reply that Draco was wont to do to retain dignity, he did just the opposite.

"I can't do this anymore, Harry," Draco sighed, putting the quill down finally.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. _No_, he thought,_ not again._

"Couldn't even last three months this time, I guess?" Harry asked, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Draco looked up at him in surprise. "What?"

"Except, I'm sure there isn't a veela to blame this time, so I guess it's just me isn't it?" Harry continued, feeling himself get worked up.

"Harry, what the hell are you talking about?" Draco asked, confused. Harry wasn't buying the innocent act. He'd been hurt too much by that face to be sure that the confusion was real.

"No, it is fine Draco, no need to pretend you're going to see the world or follow Snape or whatever. I'll finish the rest of the filing later, I'm going to go for a walk. Hopefully that will give you the time you need to get all of your stuff together and move out before I come back." Without letting the blonde get in another word, Harry hurried out and floo'd from the nearest floo portal.

It was nearing midnight when he finally reckoned that he'd given Draco enough time. Also, it was getting chilly and Harry left without his robe. Warming charms only did so much, sadly. As much as Harry dreaded seeing his house empty, again, he knew there was nothing for it.

_Draco was a veela, and Harry wasn't his mate._

Although he could have easily apparated, Harry walked home. On the way, he passed Ron and Hermione's building and was surprised to hear his name cried. Stopping, he turned around to see Hermione rushing towards him.

"Harry!" she said, panting lightly when she reached him. "Harry I've been trying to find you all day since I found out."

Surprised, and suddenly hurt, that the Ministry should already know of Draco splitting up with him Harry's eyes flashed and he turned from Hermione. "How'd you find out?"

"Well, because they'd asked Ron if he wanted to be your partner," Hermione replied. Harry's brow furrowed.

"My partner? But I thought he was…wait, Draco quit the aurors?" He knew that Draco had wanted to break up, but he didn't realize how much Draco wanted to get away from him.

Hermione stared at him blankly and sighed. "Oh, Harry what did you do?"

"What did _I_ do? I didn't do anything! Draco just told me that he couldn't do 'this' anymore and I left!" Harry replied, feeling defensive.

"Did you even _ask_ what 'this' was?" Hermione inquired.

"Well…well, no, I," it was dawning on Harry that he'd been a bit of an idiot. "I'm an idiot."

"I had talked to Draco while he was in recovery," Hermione admitted. "When we were sorting out what had happened in the caves. I asked him if he was going back to the aurors once he recovered." Her eyes were soft with a strange sort of sentimentality. "He didn't seem too keen to rejoin the Ministry after all that had happened."

"Yeah, he wasn't the Ministry's biggest fan when we were in hiding," Harry agreed softly, feeling more and more like a dolt every second that passed.

_Still, if Draco—the wizard—wanted him._

"Listen, Hermione, I've got to go."

"Of course," she said. "Tell Draco I say hello."

Running as fast as he possibly could, Harry reached the house hoping beyond hope that he wasn't too late. Practically all of his breath flew out of him in relief when he opened the door, ran into the bedroom and saw Draco sitting on the bed with his back to the door.

"I'm sorry," he heard the blonde say, his voice low. "I didn't mean to stay this long. I'll be leaving." Harry hurried towards the blonde before Draco could do anything and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing hard.

"Please, please don't leave," Harry begged quietly. The body was stiff underneath his grip.

"What do you mean don't leave?" the other asked, beginning to squirm. "You told me you wanted nothing to do with me, let go!"

"No!" Harry shouted, making the other still before trying to squirm out of his arms again harder. "Draco, please I made a mistake, I'm sorry. Let me explain, please!" Although the other did not relax, he did stop squirming. "When…when you said that you couldn't do this anymore I thought…I thought you meant _this,_" Harry gently squeezed the other to show what he meant. "And I just couldn't take the thought of seeing you leave again. I should have stayed and waited to find out what you meant, but I just…I couldn't. And I'm sorry."

Draco's posture loosened slightly and he asked "Can you let me go, now?" Slowly, Harry let go. Instead of leaving, Draco turned to face Harry looking at him squarely in the eye. "How can this possibly work?" he asked, scouring Harry's face with his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked his heart constricting.

"I don't trust you not to get hurt as an auror and you don't trust me to not leave you," Draco replied. "There's a lot of distrust in this. How can we possibly work?" The room was silent as both men went into their own worlds to think. Draco was right, Harry realized. So much doubt was shared between them that this relationship couldn't possibly work…if they had been normal people.

"Draco," he said finally. "All relationships have to work things out. Especially after all of the time we spent apart, we're not going to be able to fall into what we once had. We're different people now." Draco's shoulders were tensed as if waiting the final blow, although Harry would make sure that blow never came again. "But I do love you, Draco. That's why I'm always so worried that you'll leave me again. However, love is more than just wanting to keep someone. I'm…I'll work on my issues, I promise."

"Wow, Harry," Draco said softly. "That was amazingly articulate of you."

Harry allowed himself a small smirk. "The perks of having Hermione as a friend, I guess." They shared a smile, a tentative one. Then Draco sighed.

"I quit my job at the Ministry. I can't stand being there any longer, and not just because I can't take watching you risk your life anymore for these people I hate. I just can't…I don't have my heart in it anymore. My magic is wonky at best now that the veela has left and it's just better for me to find employment elsewhere."

"Where do you think you'll go?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure. I think I really will send a letter to Snape and ask him for a letter of recommendation and start scoping out the potion breweries around here," Draco said off-hand. At the specificity of it, Harry raised his brows. Shrugging, Draco continued, "I've thought about it enough, I suppose."

Harry sighed. "If it's what you want, then do what you need to do. I'll miss seeing you at work though."

Draco smirked. "I'll just have to make up for it when you're home then, hm?"

Harry smirked back.

_Then Harry supposed that love really did conquer all._

A year later, Harry had earned some vacation time and Draco was waiting for his next internship to begin so the two of them decided that the trip to Hawaii was way overdue.

"Harry, honestly, I don't need that much sunscreen! I look like the abominable snowman," Draco barked, looking quite put out.

"I just don't want you burning!" Harry replied defensively. "And you don't look abominable at all."

Sighing, Draco flopped into his chair, holding his book, and preparing to get tucked into the world of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's _The Lost World._ However, he felt a prickling on his neck as if someone were watching him. Draco was only able to ignore it for a little while before he turned around to see an evil glint in Harry's eye.

"Harry?" he asked, slowly putting down his book. He realized he was rather close to water and that Harry's maddening glint was getting far more maddened as he stood up. "Don't do anything you'll regret, Potter. I swear if you, Harry!" but it was too late. Draco was scooped up, kicking and screaming, and thrown into the ocean without as a by your leave.

Harry had to hold his stomach as he laughed when Draco came up with sand in his hair, shaking out his legs to get the offending particles out of his trunks. He was not laughing quite as hard when he saw Draco begin to storm towards him. He was less laughing and more running for his life.

"Come here you coward!" Draco screamed as Harry ran.

_And if this was love, Harry was game..._

_Even if he was the other man. _

**Fin.**


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